Hope
by wefoundhumor
Summary: An undercover detective wants to help with the deviancy cases in order to close her own investigation into Detroit's last big Red Ice dealer. With her learning how to be a cop again and Connor trying to make amends for past actions, Hank has to keep them both out of trouble. Things only get more complicated as the revolution, and their relationships, grow. Connor/OFC. 30 Chapters.
1. Kitchen Floors and Negotiators

Disclaimer: This story extends the timeline of the game to span across half a month rather than six days, and begins on the night of The Nest.

As of May 3rd, 2020, this chapter's been edited to clean up formatting issues.

* * *

**November 5, 2038**

Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

Up until a week ago, he'd been in the field alone. He dealt with various government agents and officers, of course, but they were all passing faces. Whether they liked him or not, and they often didn't, they were a temporary resource to aid him in completing his missions.

Hank Anderson was different. He was cantankerous, unmotivated, and on most days, drunk. He was difficult to work with, and even more difficult to understand. He didn't take to aggression: Connor had gone as far as spilling the Lieutenant's drink to convince him to go to a crime scene, which resulted only in threats and reluctant cooperation. He also didn't accept placation: any attempt at apology or nicety was met with a hard stare and a mutter.

Connor was getting there, though.

Just that morning, they'd been chasing a deviant around the middle of Detroit. Rather, _Connor_ had been chasing the deviant - Hank made some quick calculations and cut the android off on a nearby rooftop. By the time Connor arrived to the scene, the android had bolted for the next building and pushed the lieutenant over the ledge.

Every part of his programming told Connor that catching the deviant was his priority. CyberLife designed him for that. Hank would have either held on until help could arrive, or he would have pulled himself up to safety. The deviant was what mattered.

The deviant could also be caught later, but Hank needed help _then._ Connor pulled him up to his feet, and in the process let the deviant escape. Hank told him it didn't matter. He tried to thank him, but it had already been discovered that he was not a very open person.

Now they sat in his driveway. It'd been an awkward ride. Connor was reporting into CyberLife, and Hank was left to his own convoluted thoughts of who his partner was and why he did what he did.

"We'll just be a minute."

Connor nodded, seeing Hank exit the car through the reflection of the passenger's window. He followed suit, and looked up at the small, one-story home as Hank moved toward the steps of the front door. Something was amiss.

_The stove light is on._

Connor turned his stare toward the side of the house, where grass had been trampled down into a narrow, almost unnoticeable path. _Tire treads around the house. A motorcycle._

"Were you expecting company, Lieutenant?" He asked.

Hank furrowed his brows. "What?" He looked in the direction of Connor's attention, quickly spotting the same clues as the android detective. He went still, and alert. "No, I wasn't."

Stepping forward, he pushed Connor behind him and began to walk toward the house. He reached for his firearm, whispering, "Stay behind me."

Connor would follow the order as he scanned the house for further signs of a break-in. They ascended the steps to the front door, and Connor took note of the stain on the knob and the scratches on the lock. _Lock picked. Blood on the knob. Human. They're injured. Trying to hide in a random home?_

He looked to the window as Hank turned the key and began to push the door open. He thought back to a conversation they had at the station - Hank had a pet. _Lieutenant's dog isn't barking. Knows assailant, or was incapacitated._

Hank took a slow step inside the home. He waited to hear a footstep or a scuffle, but found nothing other than silence. The dog was absent from the living room, and Connor could find no trace of a fight. _Probability of random encounter low. More likely they know the lieutenant._

In the kitchen, a hand peeked out from behind the dinner table, tossing aside a red beanie. Hank stopped in his tracks, but only for a moment. Someone had broken into the house, and appeared to be on the floor of his kitchen.

They approached quietly, Hank raising his arms to aim his firearm ahead. They reached the tile of the kitchen floor, and closed in on the prowler.

Behind the table sat a young woman. Connor estimated her to be 5'9", though the long, rectangular face and lean frame no doubt made her appear taller to the human eye. She wore a black motor jacket and gray hoodie over a white top. The wrinkled ends indicated it was normally knotted at the waist, however that night it'd been undone and pushed up closer to her chest so she could clean and stitch a wound in her side.

She looked up upon noticing their movement. Once she saw them, she rather stiffly greeted, "Hey, Hank."

The second he spotted her, he lowered his gun and leaned back with shock on his face. "_Jesus!_ I could have shot you!" He exclaimed before putting the safety back on. He put the gun down on the table with a loud thud. "What the _fuck,_ Andy?"

_Andy. Nickname. Familiar with one another._ Connor looked down to her injury, which had a string of thread connecting it to a needle in her hands. _Abdominal bleeding. Stab wound. Was attempting to apply stitches herself._

She shrugged a single shoulder on her intact side. "I didn't have anywhere else to go, so uh...," Looking down at the mess around her, which consisted of some bloody napkins, a bottle of alcohol, and a white rag tinted pink, she added, "Sorry about the dish rag."

"Sorry about the-" Hank couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head, stepping closer to tower over her. He held up an arm and waved it toward the door, wherever he assumed the nearest medical center was in the city. "There's a hospital nine blocks away!"

She wasn't fazed by his yelling, and in fact, she offered a small grin. "Then you should be flattered I chose your marvelous bedside manner over professional care," She replied.

_Bedside manner not marvelous. Sarcasm. Very familiar with one another._

With a heavy sigh, Hank took off his jacket and threw it at a chair by the table. He lowered to his knees beside her, and peeled her jacket back to get a better look at her abdomen. "Jesus, kid, what did you get into now?"

Connor took a cautious step forward, deciding to finally speak. "Her injury isn't serious, Lieutenant, but you should let her continue with treatment before we distract her with questioning."

Hank snapped his head up, Connor's words only exasperating his mood. "Isn't serious? She's got a hole in her side!"

"The blood on the knob has dried and she's almost completed her stitches. If it was serious, she wouldn't be conscious now," Connor explained with the same tone he'd used at previous crime scenes. Nodding toward her, he finished, "Additionally, the bleeding has stopped and it looks to be in a non fatal area."

They stared at him a moment. If he were human, he'd daresay he started to feel nervous under the attention.

Andy spoke first. "Who's Robo-Doc?" She asked, tilting her chin up to point it at him.

Quick nickname or not, it was inaccurate. "I'm not a doctor. I work with the lieutenant," Connor corrected.

Her lips stretched into another grin, and both her shoulders moved this time from a small, amused huff. A cringe immediately followed it, and she looked down at her side to ensure everything looked in order.

_A laugh. Amusement from my response. That I work with Lieutenant Anderson or that I'm not a doctor?_

Hank reached forward and took the needle from her grasp. He slapped her hands away, saying, "Let me handle this, all right? Hands off."

She held them up in a mock surrender, but kept watch over his movement near her stomach. "Aye aye."

* * *

As Hank finished her stitching job, Connor moved down the hall. This was the first time he'd been in the lieutenant's home, and he wanted to take the opportunity to explore.

The bedroom door was cracked open, and he could see the tail of a large Saint Bernard resting on the bed. Whether he belonged in that room or not, Connor assumed Andy had led him in there as a matter of convenience. For now, he would leave that room be.

The bathroom was its own treasure. On the mirror above the sink were a handful of sticky notes. Some were pleasantries that he couldn't imagine Hank ever saying - things like '_keep smiling_,' and '_today will be fabulous_.' Others were far more aligned to his personality; '_I'm not grumpy, I just don't like you,_' was particularly in the spirit of the Hank Anderson he knew.

Connor looked down to the sink, which had spots of blood and a rim of pink around the drain. He reached in, dabbing the substance on the tip of his middle finger. A quick scan across his tongue told him just enough about the woman in the next room.

_Blood type A. Andrea Hope. Twenty-nine, detective at the Detroit Police Department, Special Investigations Division. Last known case was with the Red Ice Task Force. Confirmed ties to Hank._

* * *

In the kitchen, Andy watched Connor walk down the hall before turning back toward Hank. "I heard you were workin' with AI, but I thought they were just trying to mess with me."

"Eh, shut up," He muttered back. He took a moment to pause his work and look up at her with accusing eyes. "And who's _they_ anyway? You aren't talking to anyone on the force, are you?" If she was endangering herself just to talk to coworkers, he was fairly certain he would lose his mind. He knew she'd be the death of him eventually.

She was quick to defend herself under his skepticism. "It's just Richards," She whined, annoyed, "I'm following orders, don't worry."

He scoffed, returning to his task. "I don't think breaking into my house was an order."

"They've got eyes in the hospital," She replied, "I show up there, they pull my insurance information, and I'm either dead or in witness protection."

He pulls the thread through one last time, and straightens his back to glare at her. "You've been stabbed, Andy. Maybe you need it," He argued.

She removed a hand from her shirt to wave him off. "This was just some junkie."

"They're all junkies!"

"I'm not compromised," She said, looking him in the eyes. The firm tone was enough to reassure him, but he doubted he would ever stop worrying.

Connor quietly reappeared from around the corner. Hank was tying the thread at the end of Andy's stitches when her voice turned chipper, "I also have some information that might help you out if you're nice about it."

This caught Connor's attention. Information from someone in SID had to be helpful to his case, and it was a big win considering the loss they had earlier on the roof.

Hank reached for the scissors beside her and cut the remaining thread. Resting his elbow on his knee, he quirked a brow. "How about I don't kick you out for getting blood all over my floor?" He offered, motioning to the splatters on the tile around her.

She looked down at the mess, then pursed her lips. Patting his shoulder, she grabbed hold of a nearby drawer and started pushing herself up to her feet. She grabbed her beanie to take with her, and shoved it over dark brown hair. "We can negotiate on terms later. I need to pee."

As she left to the bathroom, she nodded to Connor in passing. He watched Hank gather up the napkins and wipe the blood away with the rag. If Hank's response was anything to go by, he wasn't interested in receiving help from the detective.

Yet again, Connor found himself trying to persuade his partner. He would start slow this time, nice but casual. He'd work his way up to the point. "She seems... interesting."

"One way of puttin' it," Hank grumbled, cursing under his breath as he stood and moved to toss the napkins in the trash.

"I take it the detective is undercover," Connor continued.

Hank paused. It'd been a long day for them, and as much as he was starting to rethink his current partner, he was still suspicious of the android. "No, no, don't do that," He warned, pointing at Connor, "Don't look up her file. I'm serious, Connor, you stick to your case."

Connor's eyes narrowed a little. Why couldn't Hank just see the opportunity in front of them? It was like he was trying to- No. Connor was _not_ frustrated. He _couldn't_ be. "If she has information that could be valuable to us, she _is_ my case," He explained, trying to remain calm.

"Well don't I feel special?" With a startle, Connor turned to the left and found Andy standing beside him. She watched him with big eyes and a smile, and for a moment, he was caught off guard. She leaned back against the wall and looked toward Hank. "Ready to negotiate?"

The man sighed. "What do you want?" He asked her warily.

Her smile fell, a serious mood falling over her. "I want in on the deviancy cases."

"Hell no."

The response was instantaneous, but so was Connor's: "Offer accepted."

Surprise flashed across Andy's face, and she reeled her head back. Pointing at him, she turned to Hank and asked, "Can he do that?"

Hank's stare was drilling into the side of Connor's head. Even for an android, he could feel it. "No, he can't."

Connor was not giving up this fight, however. "The department has given CyberLife enough authority on this case to agree to these terms," He explained.

Slashing a hand through the air, Hank said, "I don't give a damn what CyberLife has - she's not on the case."

"Come on! I have contacts you don't," Andy argued with a pout, "Red ice has skyrocketed these past few weeks. You know why?"

"Deviants."

She nodded, confirming Connor's guess. "They're looking for help and instead they're finding manufacturers. I can get you information on who and where, but I can't do that without direct access to you, Hank."

No matter how good it all sounded, Hank didn't want to hear it. It wasn't a matter of her performance on the job. This went much deeper than that. "You can tell it to Richards and he can pass it along-"

"Richards doesn't give a shit about what happens to the androids," She interrupted with a scoff. Connor made a note of this comment. It implied sympathy for androids, which was the first display he'd seen of such an attitude from a human.

Hank picked up on it, as well. He pointed at her as if finding his 'ah-ha' moment. "And that's why I'm not letting you on the case. You do." Glancing down at the rag still in his hand, he tossed it into the kitchen sink before continuing. "We're not doing this to protect some robots, Andy. We're hunting them down, do you get that?" He pressed.

If his words stung, she didn't let it show, saying, "I rather it be you than the dealers."

"Lieutenant." Hank turned his attention to Connor, who was pretty sure that threats, at least, would be successful against the man. "If you refuse to let her on the case, I'll bring her on as a CyberLife consultant."

"Hear that? Bet consultants don't get badges and security clearance," Andy teased, excited by Connor siding with her.

Hank stared. They returned it with ones of their own, like children on Christmas Eve. They'd known each other twenty minutes and already they were partners in crime. "Son of a..." He ran an arm over his forehead, turning away from them. "I can't believe I'm getting tag-teamed by a bratty kid and a fuckin' android."

"Then you know we make a good team," She stressed, slapping a hand against Connor's arm, "Hank, you know I'm good for it."

After a few more seconds of contemplation, Hank nodded. "Yeah. I do. I'll talk to Fowler and Richards in the morning, see what we can work out."

She jumped a little, clapping her hands together in victory. "All right," She laughed a little, and then gestured to the fridge behind Hank. "So you want to get me a beer, or what?"

* * *

Andy and Connor sat across from one another at the dinner table. He watched her as she leaned back in her chair, and tapped her index finger on the table's surface. She ignored his attention on her, instead waiting for Hank to open and hand her a bottle of beer.

"Thanks," She murmured, taking it from him as he lowered into his own seat.

She lifted the bottle to her lips, when Connor held out a hand to stop her. "Have you taken any sort of medication in the last few hours for that injury?" He questioned.

Lowering the bottle, she looked between him and Hank. "Is he serious?" She asked the man, tilting the bottle toward him.

Hank stumbled through an attempt at an explanation for his partner before sighing. He had no energy to fight Connor now - sometimes it was best to just play along. "_Have_ you?"

"Oh for...," She trailed off and plopped her beer onto the table. Sliding it toward Hank, she peered across the table at the android. "Fine. Happy?"

Connor couldn't feel happiness, but if he were capable, he would have. He gave a simple nod. Beside him, Hank tried to push the conversation along. "Just give us this info you got."

Straightening her back, Andy rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward them. She slipped into work mode like it was nothing, asking, "You remember Spades?"

Hank nodded. "'Course I do. What about him?"

At Connor's inquisitive gaze, she shifted her focus to him and explained. "After that big bust seven years ago, not many big dealers were left in Detroit. Mostly all small fish; they work a couple blocks and that's it. Which reminds me-" Snapping her fingers, she informed Hank, "That guy on the news yesterday, with the deviant housekeeper? You know he's a dealer, right? He's about as much of a jackass as he is useless."

She was referring to Todd Williams, an unemployed junkie who claimed to have his housekeeping android turn on him before running away. He was on their ever growing list of deviant cases.

"We haven't had a chance to talk to him yet, but I'm not surprised. His neighborhood practically screams red ice," Hank commented.

Now it was Connor's turn to push things forward. "You were saying about Spades?" He asked Andy.

"Spades was the only big dealer left. A lot of interstate connections, couple of guys down in Mexico. We never found him or his people, but there were a lot of buyers throwing his AKA around," She told him.

Nodding, Hank glanced to Connor, saying, "We started to think he was a red herring just meant to throw us off the real guys."

Andy turned almost smug. She straightened a little more in her seat, and with a small smirk, she said, "Well, he wasn't."

This was new information for Hank, who finally took the bait she'd been dangling in front of him all night. Curiously, he asked, "No shit?"

She nodded, saying, "Real as us. Name's Nick Weaver, and I've been working with him since last Christmas."

Last Christmas? That was huge. This Nick Weaver was the one guy they could never find. He may not have been a part of the task force anymore, but you'd think _someone_ at the precinct would have filled Hank in every once in a while. "Why the hell didn't Richards tell me any of this?"

With a scoff, Andy asked, "Do I look like Richards to you?" She didn't give him a chance to continue, instead adding, "Anyway, I've been trying to get his list of contacts, but it hasn't been easy. He's only got about three people he trusts with that sort of thing."

"Then how'd you get in?" Connor inquired.

Another shift of her mood had Andy grinning at him. She cocked her head, winked, and mused, "My good looks and infectious personality."

Connor reeled back, taken aback by the response. _A wink. A positive gesture. Pleasant._ His LED cycled through a faint yellow before going back to blue, and he struggled to make sense of the woman in front of him. Could nothing around Hank be simple?

Hank watched him a moment with a confused scowl. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the android detective was being _bashful._ "Stop flustering the robot and get on with the story, Andy."

Back into work mode she went. "One of his people started supplying a lot more than usual a couple weeks ago, right around the time all this really blew up. Not just red ice, either. The guy sold Weaver a couple of barely activated androids."

A supplier had to get his inventory from somewhere. No warehouses or holding facilities had been broken into recently, which meant they were all taken from the street. Maybe not every case they were investigating were about deviants, but rather about theft. "Were they deviant?" Connor asked.

She shrugged, saying, "Didn't look it to me, but I didn't exactly get a chance to have a chat with them before Weaver sent them off as payment to some friends he owed." The smug expression came back to her as she went on, "But I did some digging, and I have a name."

"Well, great," Hank pressed, "What is it?"

"Andronikov."

* * *

Photo by Ron Smith on Unsplash.


	2. Deviants and Drug Dealers

As of May 3rd, 2020, this chapter's been edited to clean up formatting issues.

* * *

**November 6, 2038**

Two days and numerous discussions with Captain Fowler later, and the Special Investigations Division was combining their red ice case with Hank's deviancy work. This meant sharing files and resources, which included the new android detective Andy had been hearing about from her handler all week.

He was stiff, according to the reports Lieutenant Richards had, but he was also very effective at his job. She heard a little about the FBI work Connor had been doing since August, and then there was the android hiding in the attic of Carlos Ortiz - that one particularly caught her attention, considering Ortiz was a face she'd seen almost regularly for the past five years.

She was close to getting the last piece of the puzzle against Nick Weaver, and if anything could help her, it would be CyberLife's prototype detective. Helping Hank was a bonus.

"Zlatko Adronikov. Aged forty-seven, six feet tall, 198 pounds. He was in prison for embezzlement and fraud, but there are no narcotics charges."

The android himself sat in the passenger's seat of Hank's Oldsmobile, reading off a file from the records he was allowed access to by the department. He was a walking encyclopedia, and Andy was almost jittery with excitement from that idea.

She sat in the backseat, ankle hooked on her knee. They were minutes from Andronikov's home, and if luck would have it, a warrant would be approved any minute before they arrived. "The guy hides out in his place all day. Sends droids out to do all his errands, tries to keep bystanders off the property. He's private," She described, resting an elbow on the door beside her.

From the driver's seat, Hank scoffed and threw her a glance over his shoulder. "_I'm_ private. This guy's just scummy."

Andy smirked, asking, "So what's the plan?"

"Connor and I talk to the guy. We hand him the warrant when we get it."

That was not the answer she was hoping to get. If they did things her way, they wouldn't even need the warrant. Leaning forward, she pointed to him and offered, "Alternative idea."

"No," He replied immediately. She spoke with a tone he'd heard many times since she joined the force, and this was an argument he'd been expecting.

She would have been lying if she said there was a deep, emotional reason for her frustration. There wasn't. She was simply impatient, and being this close to Andronikov's property - this close to wrapping up her case - had her antsy. "I'll be brief," She claimed, almost petulantly.

Hank sighed. "We've already been over this with Richards. You're not endangering your narcotics work for this case- and you may not remember this, but you were also _stabbed_ recently?"

"It's a flesh wound," She dismissed his comment, waving a hand toward Connor, "Robo-Doc over here even said so."

Connor was quick to interject. "I'm not a doctor," He corrected, looking up to the rear-view mirror to see her in the backseat. "However, I agree with the lieutenant. Your injury may slow you down or raise suspicion, and the state of your mission now directly affects ours."

Hank sat a little straighter, feeling smug. He glanced to Andy, musing, "See? _Robo-Doc_ agrees with me."

She looked between them with a bewildered expression. Convincing Hank to ease up was one thing - she'd done it before. But an _android_? That was another ballgame entirely, and she doubted he would bend will as easily as the ones Weaver moved in and out of his place. She scoffed, resting her cheek against her fist and muttering under her breath, "Now who's getting tag-teamed?"

The car fell into silence after that. Andy hated silence. She bobbed her knee up and down as she tried to wait it out, but soon found herself caving.

"So, hey, I'm curious," She started, looking at the back of Connor's head, "You're not like any other models I've seen."

"You around a lot of androids?" Hank asked. He sounded less interested and more irritable about the topic. Andy knew about his distaste for AI, but she also wondered if he was just tired of the curiosity surrounding Connor.

"Weaver keeps 'em around like they're trophies. He likes to swap out his housekeepers once a month, says he gets tired of the same faces," She shrugged, her expression twisting into something resembling disgust. She let it sit for a brief moment, and then lightened. "Never seen anyone like Connor, though."

Connor nodded as though this was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm an advanced prototype designed by CyberLife. There's no model like me on the market."

He was the first of his kind. Having him on her case was an opportunity not many would ever get - not that many would want it. Half the department had to be spinning with Connor's arrival. Hank pulled up to a curb and parked as she mused, "Bet the whole android detective thing's got to be popular around the precinct."

Whether he noticed the sarcasm or not, Connor informed her, "On the contrary, many officers I've met so far have been quite hesitant of me." He looked into the rear-view mirror, and caught her staring. "_Your_ disposition toward me has been a new experience, however."

At this, she smirked and joked, "I like to keep people on their toes."

A snort broke from Hank's throat. Before Andy could call him out on his response, Connor was speaking again, his LED flashing yellow. "Our warrant arrived."

"About time," Hank complained. Hearing a car door open behind him, he held an arm out to stop Andy from leaving. "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped and looked at him as though it was obvious. To her, it was. "To search the house."

This was also something Hank was expecting. It'd been half a day and already she needed supervision. "With this asshole still in there? No, I don't think so. You sit here until I come to get you," He ordered her as he opened his own door. Pointing at her to stress his next words, he said, "That's an order."

She held up her hands defensively. "Did I argue?"

"You were thinkin' about it," He grumbled back, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him.

Connor followed after the lieutenant, and met with the man on the sidewalk beside the car. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Andy slouch in the backseat. "I'm doubtful of Detective Hope's willingness to follow that order, Lieutenant."

Hank pulled at the collar of his jacket as he started to walk forward. "Yeah, get in line."

* * *

The Andronikov estate had seen better days. As they walked through the wrought iron fence that was missing half its length around the property, Connor took quick note of the boarded up windows, the abandoned yard, and the tarp covering various holes in the roof. It would seem after the last of his relatives passed, Zlatko failed to continue any of the maintenance.

This certainly wasn't for a lack of help, considering the significant amount of thirium Connor could see trailing across the walkway in the front yard. The blue blood of androids was vibrant against the concrete, and it mixed in with human blood splattering the middle of the yard.

He stopped to kneel down and run a finger through the blood. He brought his finger to his tongue, stirring disgust from Hank. The lieutenant grimaced and turned away, complaining, "Ugh, here I thought you were getting _less_ unbearable to work with."

It was a comment Connor dismissed as usual irritability. He let his sensors scan the blood and looked up once he had a name. "It belongs to Andronikov."

"Least we know we're in the right place," Hank offered with a shrug. Despite the casual tone, he faced the house with a new tension in his shoulders, and his hand hovered near his firearm.

Connor stood to catch up to him, adding, "There's also quite a bit of thirium. I doubt it all belongs to one unit."

At the top of the stairs, Hank reached out and rapped his knuckles on the door. "Detroit Police Department!" He yelled out, glancing to the windows nearby.

No one was coming to answer them. The blood and thirium were enough for Hank to enter the premises even without a warrant, and so he tried to open the door. It was unsurprising to find it locked.

Connor was getting impatient. He moved away from the front of the house and approached a nearby window. Stretching up to peer inside the home, he could see blood of both kinds on the floor and the railing of the stairs in the foyer. His eyes followed it to a doorway, where he spotted a pair of feet peaking out from the room.

"Lieutenant."

Connor's urgent inflection caught Hank's attention. He joined him in the yard and looked through the window, seeing everything for himself. "Shit," He swore under his breath before rushing back to the door. He retrieved his gun before he finished climbing the steps, and a swift kick against the wood had the lock shattering and the door bursting open.

"Anrdonikov?" Hank called out, entering the home with a careful eye on his surroundings.

Connor rushed in behind him and went for the den, where Zlatko Andronikov lay on the floor. He approached the body, kneeling down to check for a pulse that wasn't there. His eyes scanned Zlatko's back, taking in the tears in his clothing and the markings on his arms.

_Bruises and gashes. Small cuts, but nothing fatal. Beaten to death. Thirium laced with his own blood. Beaten by androids._

Rolling him over, Connor picked up one of his hands, bringing it closer.

_Thirium stains on his hand, present longer than the rest of it. Confirms android tampering._

As Connor went through his examinations, Hank was moving around the first floor, checking each room and finding mostly layers of dust and cobwebs. He neared the stairs in the foyer, glancing up to the second floor and then down at the stairs leading to the basement. A light flickered from around the corner, and he could see droplets of blood on the steps.

Hank glanced up to the den where Connor was working. Andronikov was dead - he would have heard otherwise by now. Confident that his partner could handle himself on this floor, Hank went downstairs.

Whatever he expected to find down there, it wasn't _that_.

Numerous cages lined the right wall, each with recently broken locks. The shells of androids were piled up in the corners of them, deactivated and torn apart in several pieces. It was the sight of nightmares, no matter your opinion of the victims.

He neared the end of the hallway, which veered off to the left in another room. Before he could reach it and investigate further, the door of the last cage was thrown open. It pushed into him and knocked him off his balance, and as he caught himself, he saw an android halfway to the stairs.

"Hey! Freeze!"

On the first floor, Connor's head shot up when he heard the shout. A second later, an android had made his way upstairs. He stumbled to a stop when he found Connor in the doorway, but quickly took off out of the house. Connor wasted no time in giving chase, and he could hear Hank not far behind.

The deviant escaped down a side path, and into the trees behind the house. Connor remained on his trail, weaving around the forestry that had been left to grow untamed. Branches whipped against his arms and sides, but his goal was catching the runner no more than ten feet away from him. When the deviant veered right, he immediately did the same, hoping to cut him off before they reached the edge of the trees.

Just outside of this small woodlands was a main road, and that was not far from the regular traffic of the city. If the deviant could reach that, he had a chance to get away for good. Where he would go afterward with his skin disabled and numerous panels across his body missing, he had no idea - he just needed to get there first.

He broke through the border of trees and gave himself a brief second to collect himself and discern his location. If he ran back toward the estate, maybe he could throw them off his trail just enough to give him time. He turned down the sidewalk with the new plan in mind, but ground to a halt.

Connor jumped out onto the sidewalk behind him, skidding to a stop when he found the deviant standing nearby. In front of him was Andy, her gun raised against the escaped android. Connor slowly approached as Hank stumbled his own way through the weeds.

The lieutenant knelt over, hands to his knees. "I thought I told you to stay in the damn car!" Were his first words, a scolding glare in Andy's direction.

Her gun lowered as they surrounded the deviant, who looked between them like a wild animal, waiting to lash out. She scowled at Hank, stressing, "You're _welcome?_"

Before he could continue into what would have turned into a lecture, Connor delivered a compliment. "Thank you, Detective Hope. Excellent work."

At this, Andy beamed, her chest puffing out and her chin tilting upward. _A smile and a nod. Proud of the recognition. My opinion pleases her._

Hank gave a loud scoff to break through the moment and threw his hands up, reaching for the deviant. "Let's just get this thing into the house before someone recognizes you."

Hearing mention of Andronikov's home, the deviant finally snapped. "No!" He cried, turning to bolt past Connor and Hank. The men jumped after him, grabbing hold and pulling on him. He thrashed against their grip, but they were both stronger than him, and he found himself being tossed back into the middle of the trio.

"Hey, hey, whoa!" Hank yelled as he held up a hand toward the deviant. He retrieved handcuffs from his pocket and tossed them to Andy, who stepped up to the android.

"Don't take me back there! I'll go anywhere else, just not there!" His eyes were wide and he shifted his weight from one foot to the next, ready to attempt another escape the second he saw an opening. He jumped as Andy grabbed his arm, but let her handcuff him without any trouble.

_Violent reaction to mention of the Andronikov Estate. Fear. Andronikov is already dead. Fear of something else._

Connor's brows furrowed as he starting playing through what the deviant's distress could mean. "Where are the other androids?"

Hank perked up in mild panic. "What?"

"There was too much thirium in that house for just you, and it was recent. Where are the other androids?" Connor pressed louder, leaning toward the deviant to emphasize the urgency.

The deviant started to shake his head. He was hesitant, but also insistent in his denial. "No. No, it's- it's just me. It's just me."

Having looked between the group in front of her, Andy suggested, "They're still in the house."

Connor began to reply, but the deviant stepped away from him, expecting to be grabbed again. "No! Nothing's in that house, not anymore! Nothing but that bastard's corpse!" His gaze lowered to the sidewalk, and for a moment, he went still. "I'm alone," He mumbled quietly, as if just realizing it.

_Expression indicating sorrow. This answer seems honest._

"Then where did they go?" Connor asked him.

Anguish changed to frustration as the deviant looked up with a scowl. "I don't know- There was a man- He-" He stopped himself, eyes drifting past them.

Connor turned to see what caught the android's attention. A truck was several yards away, driving down the road in their direction. From behind him, he heard the deviant whisper, "I can't go back."

_Muttered in desperate declaration. Desperate. Self-destruction._

By the time Connor realized what was happening, the deviant had already lunged for the street. Andy still had a hold, so when he ran for it, the momentum yanked on Andy's arms. She kicked a foot back to counter him and attempted to pull him away from the street, but the two quickly stumbled over the edge of the curb.

Connor ran forward and wrapped an arm around Andy's torso. He put his full weight into pushing her to the sidewalk, perhaps hoping it would also drag the deviant back, but the deviant broke free of Andy's grasp. Connor and Andy fell several steps back across the pavement, and only a beat passed before the truck slammed full force into the deviant, managing to come to a slow stop seconds later.

* * *

The trio performed one last search through Andronikov's home and waited for CSI to take over before they left. It was a tense ride to the precinct, and even Andy had settled into silence.

Andronikov was dead, and that meant a lot of things for the department. He was Hank's best shot at finding not just individual rogue androids, but figuring out where they were all coming from and _how_. He was just as big a catch for Andy, who'd been counting on Andronikov's own criminal charges to sway him into helping her take down the rest of Weaver's network.

They now sat around Hank's desk, each of them pondering the day's events. To say there was a gloom hanging above them would have been an understatement.

"How is your injury?" Hank and Andy tuned back in to their surroundings. Connor was looking at Andy, and he gestured to her abdomen when she faced him.

She shrugged, lowering into the swivel chair she stole from another desk. "Well I didn't get run over, so I could be worse," She replied.

Connor hesitated a moment, then said, "I apologize for not being quicker. I should have stopped the android before it ever put you in risk of that."

"What?" She laughed a little and assured him, "That wasn't criticism. You did fine, Doc."

"I'm an advanced prototype. My work needs to be more than just _fine_," He argued. Shooting her one last glance, he corrected, "Also, I'm not a doctor."

Andy ignored the last comment and crossed her arms. She couldn't deny what he was saying was true, but she also knew how chaotic the job could be. "All cases have variables. You can't win 'em all."

Connor wasn't buying it. That may have been the case for humans or the patrol androids the department used, but he had to be held to a higher standard. So far he'd had two deviants escape his custody, and if you included the work of his previous model, Connor was looking more to be a defective prototype than advanced technology ready for the market. "That's precisely what I'm meant to do. I knew it was erratic and in distress, which meant self destruction was probable. I should have acted accordingly," He spoke, more to himself than anything.

"He was going to find a way no matter what you did," Andy stretched her legs out, which pushed her chair further away from their desks. "That's the thing about people, Doc - we're determined and nonsensical."

Now she simply had to be testing him, both with the inaccurate nickname and the comparison between androids and people. With a faint frown, he said, "We weren't dealing with a human, Detective Hope. It was a machine."

"I'd say 'erratic and in distress' is less machine than it is human, wouldn't you?" She squared off, a brow quirking in curiosity.

"Are you two done?"

They straightened, looking over to the lieutenant who was scowling at them both. Connor leaned back in his seat, trying to collect himself and move on from the conversation that was brewing moments ago. Andy's reaction was more nonchalant; she shot Hank an amused grin and asked, "Don't like our charming banter? I'm shocked."

"Smartass," He muttered back. Dropping a pen he'd been tapping on his desk, he pushed things along. "What the hell do we do now? That asshole had nothing in his estate that helped us understand what's going on or where deviants are running off to."

"I might be able to help with that."

Hank turned his chair and Andy looked at the man who approached the trio. He stood with salt and pepper hair, a black coat over a dark polo, and a cup of coffee in his hand.

_Harvey Richards, lieutenant at the Detroit Police Department, Special Investigations Division. Thirty years of service. Dark circles. Light stubble. Slept in those clothes, likely in his office. An old wedding ring._

"Harvey," Hank nodded in greeting.

Richards returned the gesture, and looked down at Andy in her chair. "Don't stand on my account, Hope," He remarked.

"Wasn't plannin' on it," She quipped.

He huffed, but didn't appear offended. Finally his attention landed on Connor, and he gestured toward the android with his cup. "So this is the legendary prototype, huh?"

Connor nodded and introduced himself. "Hello. My name is Connor. You must be Harvey Richards."

Richards tilted his head and offered a small wave of confirmation. Hank cleared his throat, asking, "You said you could help us?"

"I said might," Richards stressed, "I have an idea on how to find those androids from Andronikov's place."

"Yeah?"

Richards pointed to Andy, telling her, "But first, you and I need to discuss it in my office."

Andy's brows shot up and with renewed vigor, she slapped her hands on the armrests and jumped out of her chair. "Confidential meetings. My favorite kind," She mused before following after Richards.

"Andy!" Hank sat up, waving to catch her attention. When she looked back, he pointed to her and said, "Nothing stupid."

Another cheesy grin flashed on her face. "Stupid's my middle name," She replied before disappearing around the corner.

Connor's brows furrowed at that. He turned to Hank with the question clear as day on his face, and with closed eyes, Hank quickly shook his head no. Together they watched Andy enter an office to the side of the bullpen, and they were left to quietly wait - and hope - for good news from SID.


	3. Thieves and Daughters

**November 7, 2038**

Captain Jeffrey Fowler sat against the edge of his desk, looking between the two people in front of him. Lieutenant Richards waited in a guest chair and maintained a relaxed demeanor, elbows on the armrests. Behind him stood Andy with arms crossed, weight shifting from one foot to the other.

The two had spent the rest of the night prior discussing a plan to close in on Nick Weaver. With what evidence CSI gathered from the crime scene and the behavior of the one deviant they found in the home, Richards believed Weaver was responsible for Andronikov's missing androids. If they could find Weaver's cache, they would likely find any number of deviants to investigate for Hank's case. Armed with this, they arrived to work early the next morning to speak with Fowler, who sat quietly as they went over every last detail.

"And what do you think about this idea?" Fowler asked Andy.

She shrugged. "I took the red ice gig for a reason. If this can help Anderson and close out the task force's case, I don't see why we shouldn't do it."

As the man responsible for the precinct, Fowler could see plenty of reasons not to do it. The time and resources alone would have to be approved by the Chief - not to mention they'd need an android. That being said, deviants were fast becoming one of Detroit's biggest problems, and red ice already was. Fowler didn't want to admit he saw both turning into widescale federal cases if he didn't put a stop to them soon.

He nodded and said, "All right, then we'll get the necessary warrants and... find us an android."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and Fowler waved the man into his office. Chris Miller stepped inside and spoke to the captain. "There was a break-in at the Cyberlife Warehouses, Sir."

As if things couldn't get worse. "Jesus Christ! Just what we need," Fowler yelled, pushing himself up to his feet. He waved toward Andy as he moved around his desk, ordering, "Hope, get out there with Hank. This might be deviants, this might be red ice - who the fuck can tell the difference these days?"

* * *

By the time Hank reached the CyberLife warehouses with Andy and Connor, Ben had already brought in his team to tape off the area. They centered around the entrance of the warehouses, near the control room and the loading bay. Crates sat under the bay, their lids removed and their contents missing. A busted drone was several yards away, pieces of it scattered across the asphalt.

The moment they left Hank's car, Connor was off on his own. Hank and Andy watched him kneel over the drone as they approached the loading bay. Ben stood nearby and met them halfway when he spotted them. "Hey, Hank. Good to see you, Andy."

Andy nodded to him, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "You too."

"So what have we got?" Hank asked as he looked past Ben's shoulder.

Ben turned and gestured to the crates behind him, "Not much, aside from a busted drone, a screwdriver in the server, and a missing android."

Andy walked up to the boxes, leaning forward to look inside each of them. Many had indentions in the foam to hold various replacement parts, namely arms and legs. A few appeared to once contain bags of thirium. She looked toward him with a small, surprised chuckle. "Just the one?"

"Oh, there were more, but there was one on patrol last night. Security said he heard it call but when he got there, it was gone. Everything looked normal so he went back to his station," Ben explained.

It didn't make sense. Next to androids, CyberLife was known for its rigid security systems. They had a private guard, top of the line cameras, and alarm systems Hank likely didn't know existed. "How'd they even get this far without being caught?"

Ben pointed to the line of shipping containers on the other side of the lot. "Probably from the overhead. They jumped container to container until they landed here."

Hank frowned. "And no one heard that shit?"

There was a pause from Ben, who didn't know what to say. "It was raining?" He offered with an uncertain shrug.

"What about the control room?" Andy questioned, rejoining them.

"Two guards were posted. They said they heard a crash and then the power went out. They didn't see a thing until they noticed one of the moving trucks driving off the lot."

With an annoyed scoff, Hank asked, "You mean to tell me these guys got away without ever being seen? By _anybody_?"

Ben nodded and said, "They knew where they were going and how they were doing it - whoever they were, they were prepared."

As Connor approached the group, Andy looked to him. The drone had long since lost what power remained, and the ends of wires peaked out from the bottom of its wings. "How was the drone destroyed?" She asked him.

Hank and Ben turned to Connor, who answered, "It was ripped apart. They caught it in their hands and used brute force." Nodding toward the shipping containers, he added, "They jumped down on top of it from up there."

"All right," Hank started before nodding to the CSI officer in front of him, "Thanks, Ben."

With the initial briefing finished, he headed for the control room. Andy ran to catch up to him and Connor wasn't far behind. "This was definitely not dealers. They'd take the thirium and the androids, not replacement parts," Andy suggested.

Hank pulled the door to the control room open, replying, "Yeah, I doubt they'd do it this well, either."

The control room was intact for the most part, save for the screwdriver stuck inside a broken server to the left of the room. In front of the large windows facing the entrance was the operation desk, where two employees nervously sat. At the far end of the room was another employee, pacing back and forth behind two officers blocking his path.

A third officer was taking photos of the server, and Hank paused to watch her for a moment. "Bet that's gonna take CyberLife a couple days," He commented, eying the shards of glass and metal on the floor.

From the other side of the room, the anxious employee finally stopped. He faced them and yelled over the officers' shoulders, "It'd only take me a few hours if your thugs let me near the servers!"

Hank grimaced. Whoever the young man was, he wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Looking to Andy, the lieutenant muttered, "Take care of that, will ya?"

"Yup." Andy pulled a hand from her pocket and slapped it to Connor's arm, telling him, "Come with me."

Connor wasn't sure why she requested it, but he followed after her regardless. "I'm with you, Detective."

The two walked up the CyberLife tech. Andy nodded to the officers standing in front of him, and they backed away, allowing her to speak to him in peace. "What's your name?" She asked him.

He let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms, but answered, "Jim Whitman."

Andy grinned as if he hadn't made it obvious he found her presence offensive. "Well, Jim, the time it takes for us to finish this investigation directly correlates to how cooperative CyberLife decides to be. You getting on that server anytime soon is entirely up to you."

"I'm just a maintenance technician. I wasn't even here last night," He argued.

Pointing a thumb over her shoulder to the two guards at the desk, she told him, "Pretty sure you've got more clearance than they do."

She was right, and Jim's clenched jaw told her as much. "What do you want?"

Before she answered, Connor did. "We want the security footage from last night," He said. While he easily could have accessed that information on his own, whether CyberLife would be willing to share it with the Detroit police was another matter.

Jim shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to hand that out," He told them, a deep furrow setting in his brow.

That wasn't enough to stop Andy, who quirked an annoyingly smug brow as she pulled her phone from her pocket. "Then I guess you should call someone who is before I do-" She paused to look up at Jim and shake her phone for emphasis, "And heads up? Mine will have a gavel and flowy black robe."

"CyberLife sent me to help the police on cases like this one, Mister Whitman. You won't be reprimanded for following my request," Connor assured the man.

Glancing between them, Jim grew more and more tense. With a detective staring him down and a CyberLife prototype backing her up, he found himself with little choice. He started to fidget, until finally rolling his eyes and caving on the demand. "Fine, I'll call the office."

Andy slipped her phone into her pocket and turned away. "Nice work," She whispered to the android beside her.

Connor looked down at her. He could distinctly make out a faint bounce to her step and a new brightness to her eyes since they arrived at the scene. It was an energy that was either overwhelming or infectious depending on who it was aimed at, and he almost smiled before he cut off the thought and followed Andy to meet with Hank.

"...And then we saw the truck taking off," One of the employees said, wrapping up his account of the previous night's events.

Hank stood in front of them, equal parts unimpressed and skeptical. "Did you see who was driving?" He asked.

The employee shook his head. "It was dark, and- and it happened so fast."

Andy spoke up, asking them, "Are there trackers in the moving trucks?"

"Normally, but they disabled it in the one they took," The other employee answered.

Hank sighed and turned his back toward them. "Of course they did," He muttered under his breath.

A few feet away, Jim Whitman approached them while hanging up his phone, catching the attention of the detectives. "We'll send you all the footage from last night," He then gestured to the server in the corner, "Now can I please do my job?"

* * *

After they returned to the precinct, Connor went straight to his desk to open the footage from CyberLife. Hank and Andy let him work as they went to the kitchen. Andy poured a cup of coffee for herself before joining Hank against the opposite side of the column he stood beside. He'd been watching Connor at the desk, thinking about the past few days, when Andy spoke.

"What's he doing?"

Hank glanced to her and said, "Watching the security footage that CyberLife tech sent over."

Her brows went up in mild surprise, and it was only partly because of how hot her coffee was. "That's _hours_ of footage."

"And Connor's an android," Hank remarked, holding up his own cup as he snorted. "Convenient."

At this, she went quiet. She stared at Hank and went through a very similar thought process he just had. It'd been a long time since she saw Hank - it was before the accident. Richards warned her a few years prior that he'd let himself go a little, so the drinking and the beard and the gruffer attitude didn't surprise her. When she squinted, she could even see the old lieutenant in there somewhere. What really threw her for a loop was what appeared to be a growing affection for the android detective sitting in the bullpen.

Sighing, Hank tilted to his head to meet her stare. It was annoyed and impatient, and she was pretty sure she could see a bit of nerves. Maybe he didn't want her thinking too much about the state of him.

"What?"

Andy wouldn't share her thoughts today. Instead she shrugged and looked back to Connor. "Just thinking."

Hank paused a moment, taking in a deep, frustrated breath. "Don't suppose you want to share?" He asked, his tone flat and void of any actual curiosity.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Andy spoke into her coffee, "You seem friendly with your new partner."

He scoffed. "We're just working a case," He dismissed, not willing to talk about the roller coaster that had been his partnership yet.

"You're working pretty _amicably_, is all I'm sayin'," She replied with a coy smirk.

"Shut up."

The conversation ended there, as Connor stepped around the divider by his desk and called out, "Lieutenant. I found something." When they moved from the kitchen, he lead them to his desk as he started, "The deviants mostly managed to avoid detection until they neared the control room."

He sat down at his desk, and they came up behind him a moment later. On the screen of his terminal was a paused section of security footage from the warehouse, facing out to the loading bay.

"You said they were deviants, though, so you know for sure?" Andy asked.

He turned his head to look up at her, and she almost chuckled at the speed of his movement and the wide eyes. She'd daresay he was excited, and if she had to describe it, she'd compare his expression to one of a puppy. No wonder Hank was getting attached.

"I do," Connor replied, moving the footage along the timeline.

There were four deviants. Three were filling empty bags with the contents of the crates, and the fourth was drawing in on the patrol android who watched them work. He grabbed the arm of the android and without doing much more than that, the android reeled in a sudden confusion. The apparent leader pulled away and climbed over the ledge of the platform, opening a larger crate that Andy remembered having full android-shaped indentions.

Connor changed the scene to another camera. This one was positioned inside the control room, and it was on a slow rotation to span the width of the room. It only gave them brief glimpses, but it was more than enough. The leader sneaked into the room, crouched and careful not to alert the employees no more than twenty feet away. He grabbed the closest tool he could find - a screwdriver - and plunged it into the servers. That was the end of the footage altogether.

Hank nudged him in the shoulder and pointed at the terminal, saying, "Rewind that."

Andy put her cup on the desk and placed a hand down, leaning forward to get a closer look of the footage. The proximity to Connor had him lean back in his chair, but she was unaware of his movements as she stared at the paused screen of an android she'd never seen before.

"What model is he?" She asked, examining the unique features. Was it just the quality of the video, or did he have two different colored eyes?

Connor adjusted his chair further away from the desk and said, "It's a unique model. There's none like it on the market."

Andy looked to him, and finally realized what he was doing. She straightened and went for her coffee while asking, "Can you look into what android this is with CyberLife?"

"I could try to, yes," Connor replied, relaxing a bit.

"Anderson! Hope!" The three of them turned to see Fowler standing in the doorway of his office. He nodded to Connor, adding, "And bring the android."

The sight of Richards already standing in the office told Andy all she needed. "This is gonna be fun," She mumbled. Connor glanced to her, finding her tone not at all believable.

* * *

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Connor understood why now.

They finished going over Richards' plan to stop Weaver. If not executed perfectly, it would no doubt backfire on the department. Connor recognized a dozen different ways it could fail, but he also knew the circumstances and the skill level of the officers in the room with him. They stood just as big a chance at succeeding, and if they did, it would have been the break he sorely needed. It would also put Andy in a risky position, which he believed is where most of Hank's opposition was rooted.

Fowler looked to be in less of a mood to argue with anyone than Hank looked to be willing to entertain the idea. "Does this look like a comedy club to you?" He asked before pointing to Richards, "And need I remind you that you're not Detective Hope's handler anymore? You gave up that authority when you left the task force."

"Left the task force? That's not how I remember it," Hank yelled back.

"You really wanna go there with me right now, Hank?" Fowler asked. He glared at the man in front of him, biting, "Because I can sure as hell tell you how I remember it."

It was like an old, deep wound they both harbored was getting pulled at, and Andy was glad she stationed herself as close to the door as she could. Richards cleared his throat, holding up a hand to cut the argument off where it was and get everyone back on track. "Nick Weaver was on the phone with Andronikov the night he was killed, and we know Weaver sends off defect androids to his suppliers," He began.

Hank angrily spat back, "Great, go arrest the piece of shit!"

Andy wasn't sure why she was choosing then to step in, but she did. "I know where he lives, not where he keeps his supply," She defended her squad lieutenant.

"If we arrest him now, we're not getting any other information out of him," Richards explained in a calm but stern voice he usually saved for panicking victims or fresh recruits. "We need to know what we're dealing with, and that's only going to happen if we send her in on one last job."

"You mean send her out to the damn wolves," Hank argued.

Now it was Andy's turn to feel slighted. "I've been out with the wolves for five years," She complained with an irritated scowl.

He turned to face her, a retort at the ready. "Yeah and you end up covering _my_ kitchen floor in blood."

"She's not your daughter, Hank!"

The office went silent. Andy looked down at her feet, wishing she could just phase through the glass walls behind her and leave. Hank turned to Fowler, who had stood from his desk to emphasize the severity of his outburst. The two men glared at each other, not as coworkers but as old friends, each of them thoroughly fed up with the other.

Fowler slammed a hand down on his desk. He pushed his chair away as he moved around to stand in front of everyone. "I don't know when this turned into a goddamn family sitcom for you people, but for everyone else, this is a precinct with two related problems on its hands and one person who can put herself in the middle of it without everything immediately going to shit," He scolded, waving an open hand toward Andy.

He took in a breath and exhaled, attempting to calm himself and finish only the third most annoying meeting of his day. "Richards and Hope have decided on this plan, so it's what we're doing. Now get the hell out of my office."

He retreated to his desk as the group shuffled out into the bullpen. Richards was fast after a still angry Hank who was marching toward his own desk.

"I can't believe this shit."

"Hank-"

Hank stopped, rounding on Richards. He pointed at the SID lieutenant, towering over him. "You were supposed to watch over her, Harvey. If they find out who she is-"

"That's gonna happen anyway, Hank!" Richards yelled.

From where Andy and Connor stood at the edge of the scene, Andy now counted herself one of the actual few to witness Richards raise his voice like that. She _very_ quickly decided that she _very_ much did not like it.

Richards didn't care for it either, and he cleared his throat so he could try to lighten the mood. "And who knows? It's going to take us a few days to get all the warrants, and Weaver's guys might not even sell him out so maybe you'll have it figured out by then," He said, closing in on Hank to lean forward and tell him, "I know you're concerned. Just trust me, all right?"

When Hank didn't respond, Richards knew this was up to Andy and time. He nodded to her as he walked away, leaving her and Connor with the fuming man.

"When you said your middle name was stupid, you really went for it," Hank commented with a shake of his head and a brief glance in Andy's direction.

Now it was her turn to handle him, so she sighed and moved away from Connor to stand near Hank. "Weaver trusts me. Obviously one of his contacts do too or we wouldn't have found Andronikov in the first place. No one is more suited to find these androids than I am. That doesn't sound stupid to me," She explained.

Hank rolled his eyes and turned away, picking his coffee up from his desk.

She moved closer, urging him to admit he was overreacting. "You brought me onto that task force for a reason, Hank. You trained me yourself. I'm _good_," She stressed before getting an idea. Turning to face Connor, she crossed her arms beside Hank and asked, "Why don't we see what the doc thinks?"

Her words caught both men's attention. Hank looked back, and Connor soon found their gazes landing square on him. Even as an android, he felt his body tense up and his social programming go into overdrive.

His eyes shifted to Hank. _Dark circles, furrowed brows, slight scowl. Signs of exhaustion, frustration. Prolonged eye contact. He's pleading?_

He moved on to Andy next. _Crossed arms, relaxed shoulders, chin upward. Lips pursed, holding her breath. Trying to look more confident than she is._

Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

It had still only been a week since he worked alone. But Hank Anderson - and Andrea Hope - were different. Somewhere in his programming, through the deviant hunting and the CyberLife loyalties, was a desire for them to like him. Weighing that against everything else was proving to be a challenge more difficult than he would be willing to admit.

"I think Detective Hope seems competent at her job," He started on shaky ground, and he had to ignore Hank's less than favorable reaction of turning away, as though scolding himself for expecting any different. "Depending on how many androids Andronikov was storing in his basement, we could be presented with a database of deviants to investigate should this plan prove successful."

At this comment, Hank pointed to him and said, "Should. _Should_ this plan prove successful. That right there, Connor, is what this whole argument's about."

"The probability of the detective dying on this job is only slightly higher than if she were undercover normally," Connor attempted to argue. Immediately after having said it, he realized it may not have been the best choice.

Hank confirmed this with a roll of his eyes and a snort. "Slightly."

Beside him, Andy's eyes seemed to glaze over. She was no longer looking at Connor and instead staring off into space. Finally she broke her silence, saying, "This is the first week I've been in the precinct in five years."

Hank's expression was unreadable to Connor. The lieutenant turned to face her, perhaps scanning her in a similar way to what Connor had done moments earlier.

"If I could bring Spades in? Really get the last big dealer in Detroit off the streets?" She turned toward Hank and shrugged. "Then I'm done. No more undercover. Back to working in an office with windows and not hiding my badge in a sink. Back to doing what I did today."

Connor's memory drifted to the warehouse, when she was investigating a crime scene and talking to witnesses. He thought to the excitement he saw on her face. It was pleasant. Nothing like how she was holding herself now.

"I'm tired, Hank. This is my ticket out," She confessed.

Glancing to Hank, Connor noted the struggle going on in the man's mind. "Shit...," He sighed out. "Why didn't you just say that to begin with? We can talk to Fowler, get you transferred-"

"I'm not looking for a transfer. I just want to feel like a damn cop again," Andy interrupted.

There was an extended pause between the group as Hank gave the idea a chance in his head. Much like with him and Fowler, there was a wound getting tugged on here, too, and Hank was not the kind of man to address those problems. Before he could spiral too deeply, he nodded. "Then let's get this asshole off the streets."

They no doubt had forgotten about his presence by now, but Connor watched them both. He took a small step forward, interrupting their moment to say, "I would like to be the android you take with you."

Once again, their attentions landed on him. If they were going to keep doing that, he was going to have to tune his social programming.

"What, really?" Andy asked, surprised. He nodded, and she continued, "Is CyberLife cool with that?"

"CyberLife designed me to hunt deviants. That's what I'm doing," He answered. It was true. Technically.

After a moment, she shrugged. "All right. I'll see what Richards thinks," She replied, reaching across his desk for her coffee.

Nothing more was said as she left the bullpen, going into SID's office. Hank stared at Connor, who was attempting to pretend he didn't notice. The lieutenant turned and took slow steps forward, stopping beside him. "You keep an eye on her."

Connor looked to Hank, and nodded. "I promise you I will, Lieutenant."

Hank leaned back, eying the android with a puzzled expression. He finally broke into a faint nod, and slapped Connor's arm before walking away.

* * *

Thank you for the lovely reviews!


	4. Stranglers and Lovers

**November 8, 2038**

The next day went by in a long blur at the Detroit Police Department.

Hank and Connor spent several hours working to identify the deviants they had on camera at the warehouse break-in. The female android was the first they found success with, connecting her to an android reported missing from the Eden Club, an android-employed sex club in the city. The two male androids were a different story. They were common models, and therefore the list of possible suspects was long.

Then there was the deviant leading the group, but Connor already knew who he was - he was Connor's predecessor, after all. A gift to an artist by the name of Carl Manfred, designed personally by Elijah Kamski himself. Connor expected nothing but vague responses from CyberLife if he prodded for more information, but per Hank's request, he agreed to try.

They hadn't seen much of Andy, who was in SID's office helping Lieutenant Richards prepare for their operation. Every few hours, she would leave in search of coffee or water from the kitchen. She'd stop by their desks on her way and check in on the case. It provided small breaks for the trio, Andy and Hank casually bickering with one another as Connor watched the entertainment.

It had gone late into the night when Connor received word of a new case. He returned to the bullpen of the department looking for Hank, and instead found Andy at Connor's desk. Her feet were propped up over the edge of the desk, and she read through a tablet resting on her lap.

When she noticed his presence, she glanced up and shrugged at his curious stare. "SID's been using my desk as storage." She flicks a finger across the screen of her tablet, muttering, "Assholes."

Connor scanned the room, and then the empty kitchen. "Where is the Lieutenant?"

"His third bottle, probably. Why?" She asked with a small sigh.

"There's a new case at the Eden Club."

The shift in her attention was immediate. She lowered her tablet and looked up at him, pausing a brief moment to settle into her excitement. _Widened eyes, a smile. Finds enjoyment in establishments like Eden?_

Dropping her tablet onto his desk, she kicked her feet off to the floor and started to stand. "Oh, I have to see this," She mused, flashes of amusement breaking through. _Not the club. Finds enjoyment in Lieutenant Anderson's reactions._

Connor watched her walk around the desk and past him. She nudged his arm on her way, offering, "I'll give you a ride. Hope you're okay with motorcycles."

He didn't know if he was okay with motorcycles or not. He had the knowledge to operate one, but he suspected that meant very little in terms of preference. It wasn't lost on him that the excitement Andy had just displayed was something he understood a little more now that he was given the expectation of riding a bike.

That couldn't have meant anything good for him, but he would think on it later. "I haven't had the opportunity to ride one, but I'd be interested in the experience," He told Andy as he turned to follow her out of the department.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her grin changing. _Another smile: less sharp, more... cheerful._

* * *

"So what's your conclusion?"

They were standing in front of Hank's home. Andy was resting her helmet on the bike as Connor pulled at his blazer in an attempt to tidy his appearance, which had been mussed by the wind. When he looked to her with a blank stare after her question, she nodded toward the bike.

"There's little safety, and it leaves you vulnerable to the weather. I suppose the speed and flexibility is a worthy substitute depending on the destination-"

He trailed off at her deepening expression. _Raised brow, uneven smile. A smirk._ She was wanting more from him than an analysis, and his eyes darted to the bike as though hoping he would find something to help him there. His LED cycled through yellow as he struggled to find a way to reword his findings.

It was slow as he began, "All in all, it's daring but efficient. Much like you, Detective." Looking to Andy, he offered her a small smile and an affirmative nod. "I think I like it."

_Softer expression. A smile again. I've surprised her._

If the first try wasn't an answer she hoped for, this was one she hadn't expected. She chuckled and said, "Let's go get Hank before you make a girl blush, huh?"

The comment caught his attention, but before he could question her about it, she'd already gotten halfway to the door. She knocked as he joined her on the porch, and the two waited for a response that never came.

Andy sighed in irritation. "He probably passed out."

"Can you pick the lock again?" He asked her.

She shot him a quick grin and said, "I think I'm a bad influence on you, Connor." Plucking a lockpick from her jacket pocket, Andy hovered over the doorknob and made quick work of the lock.

Hank was laying on the kitchen floor when they entered the house. Upon noticing him, they rushed across the room. Connor knelt down beside the man, checking for vitals. Hank was alive, but unconscious. The beer bottle on the floor nearby was sign enough of what had happened, along with the traces of liquor in his beard.

A gun had been dropped to the floor and Andy walked around the scene to pick it up and inspect it. She looked into the chamber of the pistol and scoffed. She lowered it to show Connor that Hank was playing Russian Roulette, and he was one pull of the trigger away from losing.

It was a conversation for another time, if at all. Connor reached out and gave him a light slap to the cheek. "Lieutenant?" This pulled nothing but grumbling from Hank. "Wake up, Lieutenant!"

For a brief moment, Hank's eyes opened, though his sight was glazed over and didn't seem to register his surroundings. He swallowed hard and turned his head away, slipping back into sleep. In response, Connor lifted his arm above his head and sent it on a fast track downward. The contact to skin made a loud smack, and Hank jolted up, searching for the offender.

"It's me, Connor. I'm going to sober you up for your own safety."

He stared at Connor, and then Andy. Connor grabbed his arm and pulled him up, wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders. "Hey! Leave me alone, you fuckin' android!" Hank yelled, his head bobbing and swaying around as he tried to glare and nod toward the door. "Get the fuck outta my house!"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but we need you," Connor began calmly. He lifted Hank up to his feet, and balanced the added weight in his grip. "I thank you in advance for your cooperation."

"Get the fuck outta here!"

He ignored Hank, instead shifting his focus to Andy, who was gathering up the mess on the floor. "You should wait here, Detective."

She almost rolled her eyes. "No complaints from me," She told him, placing the bottle and Hank's gun on the dining table.

Hank's drunken yelling trailed out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the bathroom as Andy worked to tidy up the kitchen. It was less a favor to Hank and more a way to release pent up frustrations. She was pissed.

It wasn't news to her that Hank wasn't coping, but to see the extreme way he was struggling up close and in person - that bothered her. It made it more real, and reminded her of just how out of touch she was.

If things had been different for her over the years, perhaps she could have found it within herself to be gentle. She could have helped him as quietly and calmly as Connor was. She wanted to be that person, but as it stood, her anger was five years in the making, and she found it hard to do anything more than lash out.

"What do you want to wear?"

"Whatever."

Seconds later, Connor emerged from the hall and wandered into the living room. Sumo lay on his bed in the corner, and he lifted his head when Connor grew closer. Andy watched from the kitchen as Connor lowered to his knees and extended a hand. The dog closed the rest of the gap, and he ran a hand through thick fur.

He looked up to find her, and she tried to throw out a grin upon them making eye contact, though it was faint. "The Lieutenant should be ready shortly," Connor informed.

"Did you tell him where we're going?"

He nodded, though it was uncertain. "I informed him the next case was at a sex club. It seemed the only thing to entice him into cooperating with me."

Tilting her head to dramatically quirk a brow, she asked, "He know it's an _android_ sex club?"

"I didn't think mentioning that part would help me," He replied. He stood, ignoring Sumo's curious stare as he moved into the kitchen. Nothing was obvious about the scene, but the stiff tone in Andy's voice told him she was not pleased. "Should I give him appropriate warning?"

"Let him figure it out," She muttered, tossing the dirty rag she'd been wiping the table with into the sink.

_Furrowed brow, deep frown. Hard movements. Something is wrong._

He watched her from the edge of the kitchen floor. "You seem upset, Detective."

"You don't say?" At the sound of footsteps, they turned to face the hallway, where Hank was finally making a more sober appearance. Before the men could say anything, Andy snapped. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He didn't need to look to her to know the expression on her face. Shaking his head, he grumbled, "Now I'm thinkin' I wish I was unconscious again."

This certainly didn't appease her. She gestured around the room, scolding, "Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Fowler could have your badge over this!"

He stopped when he reached the kitchen and finally faced her. "What are you gonna do, tell on me?" He yelled back.

"I just might!" She answered. With a visible scoff, she pointed between them as she continued, "You complain about me being stupid and then you go and gamble with your life in the middle of an investigation!"

He held out a hand toward her, his own temper flaring just as quickly as hers had. "I don't need a lecture, okay? What I do is my business!"

"Not when I have to walk in on it!"

The environment got quiet as Hank took a slow step forward. He lowered his voice to a biting growl, saying, "You know, I think Jeffrey's right. This ain't a family dynamic, you got that?" Slashing a hand through the air, he yelled, "I'm not your old man!"

As soon as he said it, he regretted it, but he'd be damned if he let her know that. Andy almost reeled back at the comment, and even five years of undercover work couldn't entirely hide the glimpse of hurt and rage boiling. It almost made him apologize.

"Fuck you, Hank," She spat out, shoving past him to storm out of the house.

The door slammed shut behind her, and engulfed the room in an uneasy silence. Connor's LED had been a very steady yellow throughout the fight and even now, it was hard to step out of that mode that was desperately searching for a way to stop and fix whatever was happening.

"I don't think that was the appropriate strategy to calm her down, Lieutenant," He murmured, unsure of... well, everything.

"Oh, shut up!"

* * *

The ride to the Eden Club had been heavy, to say the least. Hank refused to entertain any conversation with Connor, who could only relate his current situation to that of a child of feuding parents. When they arrived at the club, Andy was already there. She waited across the street, leaning against the seat of her parked bike. Connor took note of her, and the fact that Hank was adamant about looking everywhere _but_ at her.

They left Hank's car, and Hank eyed the images above the entrance of the building as he made his way to the sidewalk. "'Sexiest androids in town,'" He snorted, adding, "Now I see why you insisted on coming here."

Connor ignored the remark, and followed him into the club. Purple and blue lighting decorated both the floors and walls, with slow advertisements playing on numerous screens. A variety of HR400 and WR400 models were positioned on pedestals around the lobby and main hallway, which branched off into other parts of the building and was lined with doors to rooms providing customers with privacy.

Ben stood with the owner of the club and a fellow officer by an open door. He waved Hank over after he spotted them. "Hey, Hank!"

"Hey, Ben, how's it goin?" Hank replied, approaching the group.

"It's that room over there," Ben gestured to the nearest doorway. He then cleared his throat and said, "Oh, uh, by the way... Gavin's in there too."

Hank sighed. He glanced into the room, where he could already make out a ruffled bed and two bodies. "Oh. Great. A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed," He muttered before entering the room.

Officer Chris Miller and Detective Gavin Reed stood around the crime scene, which consisted of a dead man in the bed and a deactivated android on the floor by the wall. When Hank entered, Chris gave a polite nod in greeting.

It was not in Gavin Reed's nature to be polite, as Connor had already observed days ago. He smirked at them, arms crossed and a general sense of arrogance permeating the air around him. "Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet... The fuck are you two doin' here?"

Hank was short and gruff, replying, "We've been assigned all cases involving androids."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're wasting your time," Reed began, nudging toward Chris with a laugh that the officer did not share. "Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle."

Hank gave a small nod, looked around the scene, and said, "We'll have a look anyway, if you don't mind." He moved toward the body, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Why don't you go fill in Detective Hope, huh, Reed? She's right outside."

This caught both Reed's and Connor's attention, though for different reasons. Shrugging, Reed made his way for the door. "Best idea you've had in years," He commented, pausing only to scrunch his nose as he neared Hank, "It's starting to stink of booze in here, anyway." Chris sent them a silent look of apology as he followed the detective out of the room, leaving them be.

The conversation implied Andy and Reed weren't strangers. While Connor couldn't be sure how they responded to one another, he could be sure that Andy was not feeling very accommodating tonight. His gaze was accusatory as he spoke to Hank, "Is sending Detective Reed out there a good idea, Lieutenant? Detective Hope's current mood appears... less than tolerant."

Hank looked up from the wallet he picked up to scowl. "Why do you think I suggested it?" He asked before waving a hand toward the bodies. "Just focus on the crime scene, will ya?"

* * *

Outside the club, Andy waited. She sat against her bike and watched the commotion of officers coming and going. Even if she was privy to the deviancy cases, they weren't _hers,_ and on the surface, this particular scene had nothing to do with red ice. It was too much of a risk to join them inside, so at a curb across the street, she would wait.

"Vicky?"

That wasn't to say she was free of risk where she was, either. She looked to the voice and saw a lanky young man standing on the sidewalk. "What are you doing here, Tommy?" She asked as though she hadn't been spotted police-watching.

He choked out a laugh and gestured to the squad cars. "Me? I'm not the one watching the police investigate a robo sex club!"

In the grand scheme of Weaver's operation, Tommy was little more than an errand boy. He delivered messages and trivial packages, and worked with the casual customers - the overworked mother wanting a day off, or the fresh-faced college kid looking to experiment.

He was not the worst one to catch her there, because she knew how to push his buttons. "I was lookin' for a good time, okay?" She defended. Shaking her head as she eyed the officers at the door, she whined, "Was kind of hoping they'd be gone by now."

This was enough to catch Tommy by surprise, and the sensitive topic had him struggling for words. "Oh, you... You, uh... I didn't know..." After a pause, he decided to turn the tables and try to tease her. "So you like plastic, huh?"

"I like orgasms." The sounds he made were even less legible than the earlier stuttering. Like an embarrassed schoolboy, he shifted on his feet and attempted, without success, to appear lackadaisical about the whole thing.

Reed emerged from the front doors of the club. When he started to cross the street, Andy straightened. "Shit."

She stood and grabbed her helmet from off the bike seat. Drawing closer, Reed held up a hand to wave them away. "All right, get a move on, you two. There's nothing to see here."

In true form, Tommy was gone faster than she could see the direction he went. He never had much of a spine. She would poke fun at him over it later, but for now, she would sit atop her bike and make her way around to the back of the club.

She was putting on her helmet when Reed's hand clamped down on the nearest handle of her bike. He leaned in, and as she looked down at his hand, he loudly asked her, "You sure you should be lurking this close to a crime scene, Victoria?"

"You sure you should be putting your hand there, Asshole?" She retorted, shooting a glance up at him.

"Yeah, keep talking, see where it gets you," He threatened.

Inhaling deeply, she stared at the road ahead, asking, "You got anything good to say or just your usual bile?"

At this, he leaned closer. "One victim, one trashed android. Your buddies are wasting their time," He said, almost gleeful at the thought.

She smirked. "You _would_ know an awful lot about bogus police work," She jabbed before smacking his hand off the handle to replace it with her own grip. "Tell 'em I'll be around back."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, asking her, "I hear you might be done with the red ice case soon. Need a new partner?"

With a side glance and the quirk of a brow, she replied, "Why, you know any decent officers looking?"

Much like she often did with him, he wouldn't let her see the offense he took to her words. Instead his smirk tightened, and he took a slow step away from the bike. "Get outta here. I see you near another crime scene and you're going in the back of a squad car," He ordered with a raised voice. He winked just to piss her off before returning to the club.

* * *

After reactivating the android in the room, Connor discovered that there had been a second android - a blue-haired Traci - who killed the man after he destroyed her coworker. This likely meant that she was still in the club, and using the memories of the androids working there, he traced her movements all the way to the garage.

They searched through the rows of androids stationed there, and Hank took to filling the silence with a rant. "People are fucking insane. They don't want relationships anymore, everybody just gets an android," He shrugged, crossing the room, "They cook what you want, they screw when you want, you don't have to worry about how they feel."

He stopped to look over the table in the middle of the room, "Next thing you know, we're gonna be extinct because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being." Shaking his head, he muttered, "Beats me."

Connor began to approach another group of androids. He stood in front of the Traci models, examining each of them, when a brunette model lunged forward. She shoved him back, and he stumbled away as a fight broke out in the store room.

"Don't move!" Hank yelled, running to Connor's aid.

* * *

Andy was waiting around the corner from the club when she heard Hank yelling. She bolted off her bike and made the fast trek to the back of the building. It was bordered off by a tall chain-link fence, through which she could see into the yard leading up to the garage. Connor and Hank were each facing off with separate androids, fighting in the snow. While Connor was exchanging blows in an even match, Hank had been taken to the ground.

"Son of a..."

The lock on the gate was too heavy duty for her to attempt to break or pick, which left her with one option. She lifted her arms and latched on, quickly climbing to the top and dropping to the ground on the other side.

She ran across the driveway and past Connor. Reaching Hank's side, she grabbed hold of the android atop him and shoved her off balance. The android caught herself and bounced up to her feet, turning to swing at Andy. Andy ducked backward before kneeling and rushing into her, knocking them both to the snow.

Now free, Hank climbed to his feet and scanned his surroundings for his gun. When he spotted it in Connor's hands, he cursed under his breath and turned to focus on the fight taking place behind him. Andy and the Traci model tumbled over one another, and the android found herself on top.

She delivered a swift punch and pulled her arm up to strike again, but this time Andy caught her wrist. Immediately following this was the cold metal of Andy's gun pushing against her stomach, bringing the android to an abrupt stop.

"Stand up. Slowly," Andy ordered, a little on the breathless side.

The android ripped her arm out of Andy's grasp and followed the instruction. Andy kept a steady aim on her as she backed up, giving them space. Hank took the opportunity to reach for Andy's arm, and once she entwined it with his own, he pulled her up to her feet.

"You good?" Hank whispered, to which she replied with a sharp nod.

Meanwhile, Connor had managed to wrangle the Traci he fought toward the fence. He closed in on her, and she glanced around for a weapon. Taking hold of a nearby trashcan, she lifted it up behind her and threw it at him. The metal canister slammed into Connor's torso, pushing him off his feet and breaking his hold on his gun.

The group closer to the garage looked over at the sound. The lid of the offending trashcan rolled past him, toward the android on the other side of Andy's gun. She jumped for the lid, and as Andy looked down the barrel of her gun, ready to issue another command, the android turned and flung the lid in their direction.

Hank raised a hand to catch the lid with his forearm, but the toss was enough to obscure Andy's aim. Connor reached for Hank's gun, and clamored to his knees. By the time either of them were able to get the android back in their sights, both Traci models reunited by the fence.

They stood side by side, staring down the three detectives with a brazen mixture of anger and fear. They reached for each other's hands, holding tight. "When that man broke the other Traci, I knew I was next," The blue-haired Traci finally spoke, "I was so scared. I begged him to stop but he wouldn't. And so I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed. Until he stopped moving."

She looked back to the android beside her, who nodded and squeezed her hand. "I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive - get back to the one I love." Her voice went soft, tone full of longing and resentment. "I wanted her to hold me in her arms again. Make me forget about the humans - their smell and their sweat. Their dirty words."

"Come on. Let's go," Her partner whispered to her, pulling her closer to the fence.

There was no logical reason not to shoot them. They were deviants. He was a deviant hunter. That Traci model killed a man. He was an android detective. If he wasn't going to stop deviancy, what good was he? But as they turned away from the trio and began to climb the fence, Connor couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

Before he realized it, he'd lowered his gun.

* * *

Connor stared out at the alley. Behind him was half of CSI, collecting evidence from the garage. Hank spoke with Ben, explaining the events while also omitting some of the more important details. He glanced out at Connor every now and then, unsure if the worry he was feeling was for the android's emotional wellbeing, or for the possibility he'd been compromised.

"You didn't shoot." Connor turned his head; Andy stood there, looking up at him with as much intensity as he was already placing on himself. "You had a clear line of sight."

There was nothing he could really say. There was no good reason, after all, to let them go. "I chose not to shoot," He said.

"No shit," Was her instant response, "Why?"

He paused. He didn't know why. He hated not knowing why. "I wanted to take the Tracis in for questioning," He lied.

She almost laughed at that, asking, "So you let them go instead? Doesn't seem like the kind of decision a machine's at liberty to make."

_It wasn't._ That was the worst part - the main problem he was trying to solve. His eyes narrowed down at her, replying defensively, "I assure you, Detective, I am not human or deviant."

She nodded, but it was slow and skeptical at best. "Just a robo cop with compassion, is that it?" She mused. Glancing to the squad working in the garage, she moved on, "I'm going to head out before this attracts too much attention."

He watched her turn to leave, but another thought struck him. The fight in Hank's kitchen. The look on her face. It shouldn't have struck him, but it did. "Detective," He called out. When she turned to face him, he said, "I'm sure the Lieutenant regrets how your last conversation went."

Much to his dismay, she snorted. Despite the harsh sound, her attention on him was not displeased. She was almost smiling as she walked backwards, joking, "And now he's a psychologist! Imagine that."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head. "I'm not a-"

"Connor, get over here!"

* * *

It was a long day for the DPD, and an even longer night. Hank needed some peace and quiet, and maybe some fresh air. He went to the one spot that had all of those things - a bench along the riverside with a decent view of the bridge to Canada. He sat atop the back of the bench, a bottle in hand and the cold wind biting at his skin.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise when Connor appeared, walking up to the side of the bench and crossing his arms. The damn android couldn't go an hour without being at his side, it seemed. He would've likened it to a puppy if he didn't think it was an insult to dogs.

"Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot before...," Hank trailed off. It'd been a while since talking about Cole almost slipped from him so easily.

Connor watched him with a curious stare. "Before what?"

"Before-" No. _Don't do that, Hank._ It never led anywhere good, not that where he usually was was any better. He shook his head, saying, "Before nothin'."

But this was Connor he was talking to, and Connor wasn't one to let up on things. "You seem preoccupied, Lieutenant. Is it something to do with what happened back at the Eden Club?" He inquired.

Hank couldn't deny that was part of it tonight. In just a matter of minutes, his entire view on androids was challenged and shaken. "Those two girls... They just wanted to be together. They really seemed in love," He murmured.

"They can simulate human emotions, but they're machines. And machines don't feel anything," Connor explained.

For some reason, that frustrated Hank more than he suspected it should have. Maybe it was the dismissal of what was clearly a traumatic experience, or maybe it was the knowledge that Connor wasn't so free of puzzling behavior, himself. "What about you, Connor?" Hank finally turned on him, sliding off the bench to his feet. "You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?"

The question seemed to bother Connor, who turned defensive. "You know exactly what I am. In any case, I don't see how that's relevant to the investigation."

It was a little too relevant, if Hank was feeling particularly honest about it. "You could've shot those two girls, but you didn't. Why didn't you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?" He probed.

"No, I...," Shaking his head, Connor gave a weak answer, "Just decided not to shoot, that's all."

Hank took a step toward him, his gaze turning more scrutinizing. "And why'd you save me? Back on that roof, you let that deviant go to help me."

It was a question that plagued him for days, but he didn't know how to ask it or if he even should. It could have been a fluke, and if that was the case, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't know _what_ he wanted the answer to be.

"You're my partner. There's always a chance I can find that deviant again," Connor argued, his expression souring as the conversation had now been completely turned around onto him.

To say it like it was such an obvious decision bugged Hank. He snorted and shook his head, muttering, "I don't get you." He turned away and created distance between them, feeling an urge to pace. "You show up here without any sympathy or emotion, and next thing I know, you're..."

"I'm what?"

Hank stopped and faced him. He didn't know the end of that sentence, either. _You're... not so bad? A friend? Human?_ Hank's mind kept going back to the day before the incident on the roof. Everything changed that day. Slowly, he asked, "Are you afraid to die, Connor?"

Connor hadn't expected the question. It was obvious by the stiff body language and the yellow LED. After a short time to gather his thoughts, he said, "It was not... pleasant the first time, Lieutenant. I certainly hope to avoid it in the future."

So was that it, then? Connor got scared? He had trauma and decided to think twice about not being a prick? Hank didn't pretend to be an expert on these things, but that sounded pretty human to him.

A ringing cellphone broke through the thick atmosphere, and Hank pulled it from his pocket. "What is it?"

Richards' voice came through from the other end. "Evening to you, too, Hank," He joked before letting out a long, weary sigh. "I thought I'd let you know we got the warrants."

Oh, more good news. Hank's expression sharpened as he snapped, "What happened to 'it'll take a few days?'"

"I was wrong!" Richards exclaimed. "We're getting started in the morning."

With a clenched jaw and no words, Hank hung up his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. He and Andy's situation was yet another matter for him to have to deal with, and the deadline to do it just got shorter. He couldn't have them send her off to Weaver without knowing if things were good between them. He stared out at the river for a moment, bitter. So much for peace.

"Richards got the warrants to go after Weaver," He informed Connor. Picking up his bottle from the bench, he started walking to the car.

Connor watched him leave, asking after a few seconds, "Where are you going?"

"To get drunker."


	5. Laughter and Espionage

I want to apologize in advance for the considerable length of this chapter, and the four new characters being introduced. I have the entirety of this story drafted and outlined, and I just couldn't cut this one down any less.

* * *

**November 9, 2038**

"May I ask you something, Detective?"

Connor and Andy stood inside the DPD garage. For the past half hour, Andy had been sifting through the contents of her duffel bag on the work table. She reorganized her things, checked and rechecked the messages on her phone, and was currently in the process of reloading her gun. A cab the department commandeered was parked a small number of yards away and until they entered it, she would busy her hands and mind with trivial tasks. With little else to do himself, Connor took to watching her.

She pulled back the slide of her weapon and then released it, letting it return to its place. The click accompanied her response. "Shoot."

"How long have you known the Lieutenant?" He asked.

Her eyes drifted up as she went through the time line in her head. "I met him the first day I joined the department, so... eight years?"

During the argument they had two days prior, Andy made comment of her work relationship with Hank. It was sitting in Connor's mind ever since, and now seemed the most appropriate time to talk. "You mentioned before that he trained you."

She nodded, "Yeah, back when people gave a damn about what he had to say." Slipping her gun into its holster, she glanced toward him and asked, "You know Gavin Reed?"

Connor believed he knew simultaneously nothing _and_ too much about Detective Reed. There was a pause as he tried to find a polite way to convey this, and finally he said, "I've had some encounters with him, yes."

The effort was in vain, for she saw right through him. "Nice way of putting it," She mused. With a snort, she told him, "I was his partner."

"You used to be on Homicide," He replied, his tone less a question than an observation. It was news to him, though he supposed it shouldn't be surprising. He knew she didn't start her career on the task force, and it made some sense to put the two young detectives together.

An affirmative hum from Andy continued the conversation. "Hank started watching me from my very first case. One day he comes up to me, tells me my potential shouldn't be wasted on a guy like Reed and I should transfer over to Narcotics," She explained, turning to face him.

"I assume you agreed."

She gained a sharp grin and said, "Most people aim for Homicide, but after all those successes with the task force, Hank was a pretty big deal. He told me to jump and I asked how high. I joined SID a few years later."

Despite her nonchalance, the statement carried a hefty weight that even Connor could feel. It appeared to be a bitter topic for her. Thanks to her tense shoulders and avoidant gaze, it was also just as clear to him that she hoped he either didn't notice it or wouldn't hone in on it. He could give her this much - there was something else he wanted to discuss, anyway.

"May I ask you another question?"

Another grin, this one more sincere than the last. "You don't have to ask for permission like that, you know." When he continued to stare in wait of an answer, she laughed and asked, "What is it?"

"Why didn't _you_ shoot the androids from Eden Club?" He stared at her as the question caught her off guard, "You were armed, and you also had a clear line of sight."

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders. "She only acted in-self defense. I don't shoot someone like that."

Whatever Connor had hoped to find within her answer - justification, reassurance, some other reason that made what happened okay - it wasn't there. If anything, her words left him with more frustration. Brows furrowing over his eyes, he argued, "It wasn't _someone_ acting in self-defense. It was a machine."

His response didn't faze her; in fact, she seemed ready for it. "All right, and how about you elaborate on your sudden act of mercy, huh?"

"I- That..."

It was his turn to be surprised. It shouldn't have been, seeing as she asked him the previous night why he let those deviants escape, but to turn his own argument against him was precisely what he hoped to avoid. He didn't want the concept of sympathy to enter the conversation, because admission of that opened doors he wasn't sure he could close. No, it was best for him to insist there was a logical reason. There had to be, and he would find it. Eventually.

"You know, I don't think I've ever met a tongue-tied android before."

With how hard she was looking at him now, he almost expected her to find something he couldn't see. Her expression shifted into something lighter, and she reached for the straps of her bag. She looked downright pleased with herself as she shot him a coy smirk and said, "I think I like it."

He said something similar after a rather memorable bike ride. He didn't think much of what he said at the time, but then she smiled at him and commented on the impact it had with her. It was his attempt at flattery, in small part hoping to turn her roguish attitude back onto her.

"Are you teasing me, Detective?" He asked, only mildly surprised at this point.

She gave no direct response, but she chuckled as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. The corners of Connor's lips twitched up into a smile as she walked past him toward the cab.

The door to the station opened. Hank entered the garage and upon spotting Andy, he crossed the floor to meet her at the car, calling out her name. Connor looked to the sound but quickly turned away. He pretended to busy himself with various tools and equipment at the work table, though he listened to Hank's footsteps with no shortage of curiosity.

"Hey, uh-" Hank cut himself short when Andy aimed her stare in his direction. For all the work he put into hyping himself up for this conversation, once it came time to actually have it, he felt himself at a loss for words. Clearing his throat, he asked, "You doin' okay?"

"I'm fine," She answered with a small shake of her head. She waited to see if he would continue the conversation, but nothing more was said. Quirking her brows, she knelt into the back of the cab to place her bag on the floor.

Hank resisted a sigh. It shouldn't have been this difficult to talk to her about their argument, but it just _was_. He didn't want to get emotional, especially on the job, but he'd put it off too long and this was his last chance. That didn't make this any -easier. "Listen," He began, ignoring the flash of irritation on her face as he struggled to get to his point, "About last night..."

Immediately, Andy rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to one foot. "Oh, Jesus-" Holding up a hand, she asked him, "Let's just not do that and say we did, all right?"

_No, not all right._ This wasn't just for her benefit; Hank needed to get this off his chest. He needed her to know there were no hard feelings on his end, needed her to know that he still regarded her as closely a friend as he had the day she left. Nothing changed that, not the time, not the cases, not any argument. Not the accident.

But she was offering him an easy way out of a heavy conversation, and Hank was never one for heavy conversations. "Yeah. All right," He agreed with a stiff nod. _Nice job, asshole._

At that, he let her slide into the cab. He began to return inside, and caught Connor staring. The android detective avoided his gaze, and Hank rolled his eyes on his way out of the garage.

* * *

"Hey."

Connor turned away from the window of the cab. He and Andy sat side by side as the car automated its drive down the street. It had been a quiet ride up until now, which was unlike his companion, and the hard expression on her face told him it was less due to nerves and more of a focus on the job.

Her eyes finally drifted up to him, and she asked, "You ever been damaged before?"

"No, I haven't." The answer didn't sit well with him. It was not technically incorrect: his body remained intact through all its hardships, of which there were not many. His memory was another matter, and was a separate being altogether. It existed purely to educate him on the beginning of this case.

No matter how much he told himself that, it didn't stop his words from feeling like a lie, much like it didn't stop the fear that crept inside him every time danger was present.

"That answer wasn't suspect at all."

Of course she would not be as kind when it came to his own topics he wished not to discuss. He shot her a pointed stare, but she stayed on course, waiting for him to explain himself. Despite the skepticism, she appeared genuinely interested in his story. She was the first to be interested.

His LED slowly cycled through yellow, and then he caved. "There was a deviant attempting to cross the highway to escape police custody," Neither of them looked away as he went on, "The first Connor pursued it, but was destroyed by oncoming traffic. Its memories were uploaded into me after I was activated."

She returned his stare, absorbing the story. Blinking, she said, "I'm only asking because what we're about to do is risky."

Connor attempted to be optimistic, saying, "Everything should go according to plan."

She chuckled and replied, "When does _that_ ever happen?" Her expression then shifted to something he'd never seen - she had shown tenderness before, but this was mixed with something else. "I'm going to be in your ear the whole time. If the heat gets too hot, just say the word and I'll jump in."

It humbled him to realize the expression was a genuine care for his wellbeing, with a level of authority and certainty that made him want to believe the conviction of her words. She was trying to reach out and soothe _him,_ which is not the way things should have been.

"You shouldn't worry for my sake. I am just a machine." It was feeling more and more like an automated response, and she was quick to deliver an unconvinced stare.

The cab came to a stop, mercifully ending the conversation for Connor. The door to his right opened, and a nervous older gentleman climbed in. He sat across from them, and gave a small jump as the door shut behind him. His hands played with the pant fabric at his knees, and Andy smiled in greeting. It did not help.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," He confessed.

Unabashed, Andy nodded her head toward Connor. "All right, but aim it at him."

The faint noise of disgust that left the android detective was surprising to them both, and a laugh bubbled from Andy's chest that she had to bite down.

* * *

The trio arrived at a park near the edge of the city some time later. They left the car and Andy led them to a picnic table not far from the parking lot, where they would wait. She sat on the table, feet on the bench next to the man they brought with them. Connor stood at the end of the table, still and inexpressive.

It was another fifteen minutes before a third party arrived. He came in from another side of the lot, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. Andy noticed him immediately, and nodded to him once he was close enough to see it.

Jason Hart was Nick Weaver's closest friend, and the over-sized jock was essentially third in command of the operation. He was also the hardest obstacle Andy had to deal with, because once she made it to him, she had access to Nick himself.

He was staring at Connor as he walked up to them, and he asked, "This it?"

The trembling man behind Andy jumped up to his feet, but she answered for him. "Nah, he's got another robot on the way."

Jason scowled at her sarcasm, though it was nothing new. He passed her and approached Connor, inspecting him as closely as possible for a man with little to no technical knowledge. "Marty."

The man hummed in anticipation, rushing to their side. Andy almost lost composure at the sight. Marty wasn't her first choice for this job, but he was also the easiest client the department could get to betray Nick and one of the only ones Richards felt comfortable offering immunity to in exchange.

Luckily, Jason was too busy towering over Connor to care about the man's attitude. "Where'd you get it?"

Marty glanced to Andy, who nodded and urged him to say something. "All of the executive staff at the office got bonuses. There was a merger- TriTech, the appliance department- we're working on this new form of-"

"What about its tracker?" Jason interrupted before he could get lost in Marty's droning.

"I- I disabled it."

They waited several seconds as Jason and Connor stared one another down. Andy was thankful now more than ever that Connor looked as unassuming as he did - she'd seen how big some androids could be, and she wasn't sure this would have been convincing if she brought Jason one of them.

Jason finally crossed his arms over his chest and spoke, this time to Connor himself, "Tell me your name."

Unexpectedly, Connor didn't miss a beat. "My name is Connor. I'm an assistant android for Mister Graham."

There were no noticeable warning bells to this response, so Jason addressed the others, remarking, "Never seen this model before."

"You an expert now?" Andy quipped from her place still on the table behind Connor.

He shot her a warning glare over Connor's shoulder and said, "Watch it. Things have been shit lately."

_No kidding._ "What's going on?"

The smirk he gained was as clearly heard in his voice as it was mocking. "You woulda heard about it if you weren't getting off with plastic yesterday," He told her.

For the briefest of moments, she was confused. Then she remembered the Eden Club, and Tommy finding her outside. Of course he would run off to share such a thing with everyone else. "Fuckin Tommy...," She muttered, shaking her head.

Jason only laughed at her expense, but the conversation seemed to lighten things enough for him to be satisfied. "We'll bring it in, see what Spades thinks." He faced Marty but gestured between Andy and Connor as he ordered, "Get it in the car. I'll be there in a minute."

No matter how much she wanted to succeed or how much work went into preparation, a part of Andy expected all of this to blow up in her face. Hearing him give her the go ahead came with great relief, and plenty of surprise. Nonetheless, Andy kept her cool and replied with a quiet nod.

* * *

Once Jason returned to them after paying Marty, he took them down a number of back roads through Detroit. It would have been a tense ride had Connor not been an android, and Andy had not already been accustomed to being alone with the man in the driver's seat.

They pulled up to a residential building - a long, one story brick home with a tiny slab of a front porch. It wasn't a place Andy recognized, which was a discovery that came with both excitement and mild paranoia. The faint voice in her head that ran with wild ideas was already imagining the different ways Jason would kill her in some abandoned property before taking off with Connor.

They followed Jason to the front door, where he banged a fist against the wood. Seconds later, a male android opened the door to them, and Andy felt some relief at the familiar face of Nick's assistant android. Sam didn't go anywhere Nick didn't, so his presence could only mean good things.

"Good afternoon," Sam greeted, stepping back to allow them inside.

They made their way through the hall, which opened up to a small kitchen. Another hallway was to their right, and an open door on the left revealed stairs that led into a basement.

"Follow me," Jason ordered Connor. He stepped toward the basement, and nodded to Sam as he told Andy, "Spades wants to see you."

Getting separated was not unexpected, but when Connor looked back to Andy, she could have sworn she saw a flash of concern. She tried to convey a casual attitude in her body language to reassure him; she shifted her weight to one foot, relaxed her shoulders, and slid her hands into her pockets.

"Got it, boss," She replied, turning to follow Sam.

* * *

An unmarked van was parked several yards away from the home. Inside it sat Lieutenant Richards and a small number of SID officers. They watched the duel footage they had set up, one through Connor's own software and the other attached to Andy's jacket. Plain clothes detectives were getting into position along the street the home was on, and a second van was finding a good place to park around the corner.

"When do we move?" Someone in the back of Richards' van asked.

Richards shook his head, eyes on the cameras. "Not yet."

* * *

The basement was mostly one, long rectangular room. The floor was concrete, the walls were brick, and narrow columns of brick were situated throughout the room. At the end of this room was a closed door, and Jason was leading Connor straight toward it.

Connor looked around as he followed the man. The lighting in the basement was dim, but he was able to make out a set up for manufacturing red ice against the right wall. A fridge and a waist-high freezer sat nearby, both turned off and opened, containing large brown packages. Shelves sat over the freezer with bins holding small bags of red ice.

On the left of the room were several rows of androids lined up along the wall. They stood shoulder to shoulder, back to chest, each one with their skins turned off and their functions on standby. Several had been marred in various ways, and Connor could safely assume these to be the androids from Zlatko Andronikov's estate.

Jason opened the door at the end and walked them into a smaller room. The equipment inside was not unlike what they found in Andronikov's basement. Computer screens sat at a control center connected to a large platform in the middle of the room, mechanical arms extended out from the center behind it. It was equipment that contained and controlled android programming, and in that moment, it was the most frightening thing Connor had ever seen.

Unaware of Connor's inner turmoil, Jason crossed the room and lowered into a single chair that sat by the computers. He turned on the systems and waved a hand toward the platform.

"Step up."

* * *

The building they were in was not lived in, nor was it the base of daily operations, so the office Andy was led to was minimally decorated. There was a desk in the middle of the room, two chairs, and a lone bookshelf in the corner carrying a few mystery containers and a black lock box. The computer had two monitors, and one was stationed at the end of desk, turned inward so that people on either side could view it.

Nick Weaver sat at the desk, leaning back and flipping a pen between long idle fingers. His chair sat sideways, and he faced the far wall, though he was looking at the secondary monitor. A woman was on the screen, and when Sam knocked on the door to alert them of the arrival, she was the first to see them.

Sharon was Nick's older sister. She was second in command, though not for lack of any authority on her part. Bringing her in was just as important as it was catching Nick, so seeing her on a monitor in what looked to be an airport was an immediate hit to Andy's current high of getting this far.

"Victoria has arrived," Sam announced beside her.

Nick looked over his shoulder and smirked. As Andy ventured into the room, he greeted, "Glad you could finally return to us." He dropped the pen and balled his hands into his lap. "Hear you been busy."

She wasn't living that down, was she? "To what end?" She asked him.

His cackle was as good natured as anything could be coming from Nick Weaver, which meant that it was only a little less sinister than his usual amusement. "I don't care about your extracurriculars," He dismissed with a shrug.

"I do," Sharon mused from the screen. She smiled with a quirk of her brow, and lowered her chin to send a flirty stare Andy's way.

Nick scoffed. "Of course _you_ do."

Andy focused on Sharon now. There were no discernible markers to the background. It looked like any other average airport. She nodded toward the screen, asking, "Where are you at?"

Sharon gave a tired sigh and looked up over her phone to the rest of the airport. "I lost track after the third layover," She replied, resting a hand in her red curls.

"What number you on now?"

She returned Andy's cheekiness with her own, retorting, "What year is it?"

"Are you two done?" Nick raised his voice, looking between the women.

Sharon rolled her eyes. "We never are, but your less than subtle point has been made."

Nick ignored the comment and moved the conversation along. "We've been talking about you-"

"I have a business offer."

Sharon's interruption had him tightening his jaw and growling out, "I'll hang up on you."

His anger didn't bother her in the slightest. "Then I'll just call her."

Turning to Andy, Nick went on to explain, "We're working on setting up a second location. Somewhere closer to our guys down south. Sharon'll run things there, I'll keep business going here."

Sharon was excited to jump in again. "I want you to come with me," She told her.

Andy was reeling trying to appreciate how big this news was, and several questions came racing through her mind. If they were planning to expand, were they already moving a significant portion of their product out of Detroit? Did they have a location already in mind? Is that where Sharon was going or returning from?

"What?" Was all she could manage in her shock.

Sharon smiled and nodded, brushing hair from her face. "You'll be my very own Jason, except I'll actually like you," She joked, unaware of the concerns cycling around in Andy's head.

"Watch it," Nick warned his sister, who merely rolled her eyes at him.

Andy was slowly regaining her composure. "Are you serious?" She asked them.

Nick shrugged and told her, "If you don't want it, we'll ask someone else."

"N- No, I do," She interjected, holding up a hand, "I want it." Either this would all end before it came to that, or Sharon would be moving camp, and Andy wanted to make sure she was part of the worst-case scenario.

This came across as enthusiasm to Nick and Sharon. "It won't happen for another few months, but we'll keep you updated," Nick informed. He looked away to his phone, signaling the end of the conversation.

Leaning toward her camera, Sharon grinned at Andy. "Now back to this Eden Club business..."

"Jesus, I'm going to smoke," Nick scoffed, standing from his desk to leave the room.

* * *

Connor stepped up onto the platform of the machine and turned to face outward. He kept a close eye on Jason, whose attention was deeply focused on the terminal in front of him.

The man sighed to himself, muttering under his breath. His hands hovered over the inputs, and he made each move with a painstaking level of awareness. Whoever usually did this sort of work on Nick's androids, Connor could tell it wasn't this man. He was struggling more than Hank when it came to modern technology.

Not that Connor could complain. Every second it took for Jason to figure out how to use the equipment before him was one second more in Connor's favor - another increase in the chances he had to make it out of this unharmed. When the cold metal arms pressed against his back and wrapped around his wrists, he felt a rush of panic and the instinct to fight it. He remained where he was, however, stiffly allowing the machine to lift him off his feet.

True to her words, Andy had remained in his ear the entire time. Her earpiece was connected to his own cellular software, and her voice was faint in the background through every minute. He had a sneaking suspicion this situation is what she meant when she mentioned 'the heat getting too hot,' but as much as he hated this, Connor resigned himself to the ideal he'd been repeating for days now: He was a machine, and what happened to him was not as important as closing a case.

Besides, Andy would come for him soon enough. He believed that - believed in her.

A woman said something that caused Andy to laugh, and he drowned out everything else going on, focusing on the sound. It didn't take away the fear of the moment, but she certainly made it easier to bear.

* * *

Sharon didn't chat for long, her next flight inching closer by the minute. Once they ended the call, Andy returned to the kitchen.

Nick sat at the small dining table in the kitchen. He pinched an electronic cigarette between his fingers, and rested his elbows on the table. Beside him at the counter was a housekeeping android, cleaning dirty dishes. Sam stood off to the side of the room, blank faced and patiently waiting for a new order.

Andy sat at the table, though her eyes drifted to the basement. She'd heard nothing from down below, and Jason had yet to make his appearance.

"Sharon's going to need a few people to go with her," Nick said, drawing her attention back to him, "You should start putting a list together. We'll see what we can do."

She lifted a brow. "You're not just gonna send the worst you got with her?"

He shook his head and began, "Detroit might be where it's all at, but the second location will be important for business with Mexico. I can't have anyone screwing it up." He pointed his cigarette at her. "That includes you."

"What did I do to deserve this lecture?"

"I know you got knifed." When her face fell, he flashed her a smug smirk. "Sharon's smart, but she's not gonna let idiots get away with shit like that. You got to keep her in line just as much as she does you."

Trying to keep Sharon in line was like trying to leash a wild animal. Andy scoffed, "Yeah, I'll keep _her_ in line."

Shrugging, he replied, "You're the one who accepted the job."

Andy watched him a moment before musing, "I'm starting to think you're just trying to get her out of your hair."

"You're _just now_ starting to think that?"

"What are you gonna do with Marty's robot?" The shift in topic was immediate, but Andy tried to stay calm and curious with her tone.

Nick didn't think much of the question. He flicked at his cigarette, saying, "Jason will check it out, make sure it's safe. I'll probably sell it off- gift it if I'm feeling generous." Looking up at her, he smirked. "Why, you feelin' like putting me in a generous mood?"

Andy snorted. "You are _not_ the Weaver sibling I'd take to bed."

* * *

Richards had been listening to the conversations going on and nodded to the other officers, issuing the order, "Everyone in position."

SID acted immediately. Officers retrieved their gear and left the department issued vehicles. The detectives on the street began to stroll down the sidewalk toward the house, keeping their hands near concealed weapons.

Across the street was a young woman walking with a baby stroller, and a home care android traveled at her side. As SID officers closed in on the home, one stepped up to the duo and held out his badge. He quickly and quietly escorted them to their home on that street, but failed to notice the yellow LED of the android in their company as he communicated with someone else.

* * *

Andy and Nick settled into the silent kitchen. Nick immersed himself in his cigarette, but Andy continued to watch the doorway to the basement. She'd heard Richards' command, and they couldn't have been far from storming the storeroom now. The second she heard them, she was making a dash to go find Connor. He may not have alerted them of danger, but knowing the android, he would have let them dismantle him before he admitted to needing their help. If anything, she considered radio silence to be _worse._

It took her several seconds to break out of this thought and recognize that the kitchen shouldn't have been silent at all. She looked toward the android at the counter, who had turned off the faucet and was staring down into the sink. The telltale yellow of her LED was sign enough of trouble.

When Nick noticed Andy's intense curiosity on the android, he looked to her as well. He let out a short whistle to catch her attention, calling out, "You breaking or something?"

The android jolted in surprise and pulled away from the sink. She turned around and told him, "There are police outside."

_Fuck._

Nick sat straighter, dropping his cigarette to the table. "What?"

The android nodded in confirmation. "They're on their way, and there may be more of them."

* * *

Inside the SID van where Richards would remain, he cursed under his breath at the announcement heard through Andy's earpiece. He leaned forward, ordering into his radio, "Get in there, now."

With guns at the ready, SID moved in on the building.

* * *

"Fuck-" Nick jumped to his feet and Andy wasn't far behind in the panic. "Go get Jason," He told her before nodding at Sam. Sam was quick to follow him. Nick looked to Andy as he moved, yelling, "And tell him to break that damn bot!"

They took off down the hall toward the office, and Andy found herself at a crossroads.

She could do as he said and fetch Jason. The three of them could flee together - she would maintain Nick's trust in her just long enough to reunite with Sharon and then she could bring all of them in at once. Hank would get Andronikov's androids, and SID would get everyone they needed. It was not just a clean solution to the sudden problem they had on their hands, but an opportunity she wouldn't have gotten otherwise. Everyone needed that win.

But how long would that take? Another year? Another five? Could she do this all over again?

And what did that mean for Connor?

Andy raced downstairs, descending into the dark basement. She hadn't made it halfway there when she was already calling out for Jason.

In the room in the basement, Connor felt his body physically relax when Jason looked toward the sound. "What?" Jason yelled back.

Andy rushed into the doorway. "Cops on their way. We need to go."

"Wh-" Jason straightened, looking to Connor with confusion and suspicion. "What do I do with that?"

She paused and made brief eye contact with Connor. In what little time she had to assess the situation, she could only hope he was okay. "Leave it. Let's just _go_," She said to Jason.

For all the time Connor spent correcting her use of pronouns regarding androids, there was a very distinct pang that came with _Andy_ referring to him as an object, but now wasn't the time to focus on that. He looked between them, eyes landing on the man who was standing from the control center.

"I haven't wiped its memory yet," Jason complained, digging into his pockets as he neared Connor.

Andy started to grow antsy at the movement. She stepped into the room, impatiently arguing, "What are you doing? Who cares about its memory- We don't have time for this!"

"It won't take me long," Jason dismissed, waving toward the door with a free hand as he pulled a switchblade from his pocket with the other, "Just head upstairs." He stepped closer to Connor, who was now pulling as hard as he could on his arms.

Jason put a hand on the nearest mechanical arm and leaned forward, but heard behind him the click of a gun. He looked over his shoulder, coming face to face with the barrel of Andy's firearm.

"Can't let you do that, Jason," She told him, shrugging.

He stared back at her, the shock turning into a bemused scowl. "You've got to be kidding me."

She shook her head. "Afraid this isn't a joke." Gesturing to the ground with her gun, she ordered, "Put the weapon down and step away from the android."

"You fucking bitch-"

"Weapon down," She repeated more firmly.

Jason held up his hands and took a small step away from the platform. Lowering to he knees, he let go of his switchblade and dropped it to the floor. She watched him stand up, continuing, "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

He did so, his movements slow and careful. Connor still pulled at the arms of the machine behind him, keeping a close eye on Jason. He _hated_ that his hands weren't free.

Andy reached out with her foot and kicked the blade away from them. She began to motion toward the wall, ready to have him stand against it until SID arrived to the basement, when Jason spun around and struck her in the face with his elbow.

The impact was loud, and Connor started to thrash his arms to free himself. The machine allowed for some movement but otherwise held tight, forcing him to watch as Andy stumbled. Jason grabbed her wrist and twisted until she dropped her gun, and then went in for a swing of his fist. She ducked under his arm and kicked up her foot, shoving the tip of her boot directly into his groin.

Jason's grip loosened as he knelt down in pain. Andy wound up her next throw, giving a wide sweep to the punch she delivered to his face. He collapsed to the ground on his side, and Andy raced to pick up her gun.

The sound of SID storming the basement was heaven to Andy and Connor, and the drop of Jason's shoulders was clear enough indication that he'd given up. Once officers reached the room, she turned toward the terminal beside the machine. Seconds later, Connor was being lowered to his feet, and Andy moved to meet him on the platform.

"Are you okay?"

They stopped, having spoken over one another in their panic. They both found the other's question to be puzzling, each of them believing their concern for the other was more important.

"I'm intact-"

"I'm fine-"

"You're bleeding," Connor raised his voice, stopping her from going any further. He leaned forward, eying the already forming bruise on her cheek and the blood that dripped from her nose.

A whistle from the doorway pulled Andy's attention to the door, but Connor kept an intense stare on her face. From behind him, he heard Richards. "Weaver got away."

* * *

In the kitchen at the DPD, Hank stood the coffee maker, waiting for the cup under the spout to fill. SID had returned to the station, bringing in Jason, a truckload of androids, and more red ice than he was sure they had room to store it. It was a huge break, but none of them particularly felt like celebrating just yet.

"Detective Hope may be in danger."

He jumped, turning back to find Connor in the doorway, staring at him. "Jesus- Give a guy some warning next time," He complained, snatching the cup into his hand. He placed it on the counter and put a second one down, pressing a button on the machine.

Connor stepped closer, explaining, "Nick Weaver will likely be looking for her. We should talk to Captain Fowler and make sure she's protected."

The severity in Connor's voice may have been enough for someone else to bend over, but Hank sighed and fully faced him now. "Okay, I see what this is."

Connor's brows furrowed in confusion. "This?"

"You worked a case with her and now you're attached. It's normal- well, for humans. Didn't expect it from you," Hank grumbled, shaking his head, "Nick will either skip town or hide till the coast is clear, which isn't gonna happen for him. Either way, we're gonna find him before he even starts to consider going after Andy." Connor was unconvinced, and he began to argue, but Hank held up a hand and stated, "She's fine, Connor."

Connor closed his mouth, almost pouting as Hank turned away to the coffee maker.

It didn't take long for Connor to speak up again. "Detective Hope told me how you two met." When Hank's wary gaze shifted toward him, he continued, "She said she gladly left homicide for a chance to work with you. I believe her exact phrasing was, 'He told me to jump, and I asked how high.'"

Hank's frown deepened. Were the situation any different, Connor would have regretted bringing it up at all. "Where the hell you goin' with this?" Hank asked him.

With a newly hard stare, Connor said, "We need to discuss the possibility of assigning some protection to the detective. I hoped giving you insight on the influence you have over her-"

Hank moved quickly, pointing to Connor and waving toward the bullpen as he exclaimed, "How about you focus on our investigation instead of giving me insight on the rest of the department, huh, Connor?" He grabbed both cups from the kitchen surface and shoved past Connor, muttering, "Prick..."

The two of them entered the bullpen and approached their desks. Andy sat in Connor's chair, her head leaned over the top as she stared up at the ceiling. She held a bag of ice to her face, insisting it was all she needed and that she'd be fine in a few hours. It didn't stop Connor from trying to push her to go to the hospital, but she was just as stubborn as he was.

Hank placed one of the coffee cups on Connor's desk, and Andy reached for it as she looked up at him. "Well?"

"Still no sign of Weaver," Hank replied, "Richards is talking to Fowler now."

"What about his assistant android, Sam?"

Hank shrugged. "They didn't mention him."

Andy went quiet, taking in the information. The wrinkle in her brow had him concerned. Somehow, some way, she was beating herself up over this. He listened to the audio they recorded from the day, and he knew exactly where her head had been. "You know, for a minute there, I thought you were gonna go on the run with him," Hank confessed.

There was the tiniest of pauses before she said, "I didn't."

His brows shot up a moment and he delivered a pointed look her way. "So you were thinking about it."

"But I didn't," She argued childishly.

"Do you regret it?" He pushed, leaning toward her and waiting for the answer.

This caught her, and he knew as much. With heavy hesitation, she glanced away, saying, "I... haven't decided that yet."

"You did a good job today."

She snorted at that. A wince and groan immediately followed it, and she brought up her other hand to her aching nose. "My main guy got away. Sure, we've got the ice and Jason, but that's not enough," She ranted, scolding herself.

"Andy, listen to me." When she looked him in the eye, he told her seriously, "You're not undercover anymore. You can go after him like a _cop_ now."

It floored her to realize that. She was so tangled up in the heat of the moment and the complications that came with Weaver being missing that that fact almost slipped by unnoticed. It was like letting go of a breath she'd been holding for too long, the weight of this immense pressure off her shoulders. She was a cop again.

Seeing her settle into this revelation, Hank began to step away. "I'm gonna go see if we have anything on the androids we brought in yet," He told them. He sent a warning glare to Connor as he left.

It did not go unnoticed by Andy, who asked, "What was that about?"

Connor's frown followed after Hank's silhouette before he answered, "We had a disagreement."

Another snort; another wince and groan. "Just the one?" She joked.

"Perhaps you could help me talk to him," He suggested, looking down at her.

"You want social advice from me?" She lifted the bag of ice off her face to gesture toward the alarmingly dark bruise on her cheek, "From _me_?"

At her movement, Connor shot her a scolding look. He grabbed the back of her hand and guided it to her face, applying just enough pressure to keep arm in place without doing any damage. The action, bold as it was, surprised her - even more so after he maintained his hold.

She was quietly observing him as he proceeded without addressing it, "You have a close relationship with the lieutenant, and I've seen you change his mind before."

"What are you even arguing about?"

It didn't take a genius to know the woman who didn't even want to go to the hospital wouldn't take kindly to Connor's desire for personal security. There was no way he was admitting to that. "It pertains to the investigation," He vaguely answered before explaining to her, "I've been analyzing the lieutenant since I arrived. I know a lot of things about him, but only a few have really resonated. I can't seem to get through to him and influence his decision making."

Andy shrugged, dismissing his concerns. "He's a grumpy old man. Not much is gonna 'influence his decision making.'"

"You did."

"Don't you remember? Good looks and an infectious personality?" She remarked with a wiggle of her brows, though she didn't allow him a chance to comment. Sighing, she went on to say, "Look, he's got a past with androids, all right? You're gonna have a tough time getting through to him." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "For whatever it's worth, he likes you."

It didn't seem that way from where Connor was standing, but he supposed Andy knew Hank better than he did. "Do you think so?"

She nodded, sure of herself. "I heard about what you did, you know- on that rooftop with Hank. Richards told me. That's a big deal, so yeah, I think so."

Hank's disposition certainly had changed since that night. Connor wouldn't quite say he was the lieutenant's new drinking buddy, but Hank had warmed up to some extent. He'd hoped that doing this operation - helping Andy - would also get him in Hank's good graces.

"Thank you, Detective," Connor told Andy with a faint smile.

"Did you really analyze him?" She inquired slyly.

He nodded, unaware of where she was going with the conversation. "Yes. I've done the same to everyone."

"What have you learned about me?"

Ah. That's where.

He shifted around where he stood, his LED flashing yellow. He'd discovered quite a bit regarding Detective Hope, but he hadn't yet decided it was all entirely accurate. "You're a little more of a mystery than the lieutenant," He admitted. "You have a lot of energy, and your brash attitude tends to either irritate others or endear them. You're confident in your abilities, but it matters what other people think of you. You crave validation and approval, especially from mentor figures."

Seconds passed. He began to worry he'd said something to truly upset her when she finally broke eye contact, pouting down at her coffee. "I thought maybe you'd just tell me I had a hamster when I was a kid."

Whether the pout was genuine or not, the joke relieved him. "Did you?" He asked.

She shrugged, and it was almost bashful. "'Till I set it free in the backyard."

"So your sympathy for non-human intelligent forms goes back far," He quipped with a knowing hum.

Rolling her eyes, she mumbled, "Yeah, yeah, keep your voice down. Don't need people around here thinking I've gone soft."

_If they know you at all, Detective, they know you already were._ A small smile accompanied the thought, but he would not tell her this outright.

"Which one are you?"

His smile fell, and he looked to her eyes, which watched him in expectation. Confused, he told her, "I don't understand the question."

"You said I either irritate others or endear them," She explained before pushing, "Which one are you?"

He tried to respond immediately, but stumbled over the words in his mind. Finally he explained, "My Social Relations programming was designed to be pleasant with everyone here."

She smirked, as if she'd been waiting for that answer. "And how are you getting along with Gavin?"

"I-" She was too smug. That was her problem. "That's..."

"There's that tongue-tied look again," She mused, far too happy with herself. Quirking a brow, she added, "For an advanced prototype, that sure happens a lot."

He squared her with a stare, confessing, "Just with you, Detective."

If he hadn't taken himself by surprise, he would have considered Andy's reaction a victory. Her eyes widened just enough for him to register her surprise, her gaze softened, and slowly her smirk shifted to a pleased smile and a chuckle.

"You can let go of my hand, you know."

"Will you remove the ice again?"

"Probably."

"Then we're staying like this."


	6. District Attorneys and Regulator Pumps

**November 10, 2038**

It was in the dark hours of the morning, when the sun had yet to climb over the horizon, and a navy blue settled into the sky. Some of the police department were already up and ready to tackle the new day, but in Hank's home, things remained still and quiet, until a ringing phone cut through the living room.

Sumo lay stretched out along the couch, baring his stomach to the world. Behind him, or rather _underneath_ him, Andy stirred from her sleep. She squeezed into the couch, letting Sumo fall into place beside her. Pushing a hand into his chest, she lifted herself halfway above him, and reached over the armrest of the couch. Her phone sat perched on the edge of the end table, and its screen illuminated the room as she lifted it to her face.

She fell back into her cranny of the couch as she groggily answered, "Yeah?"

Richards' voice was both loud and clear, eliciting a small wince. "We brought all the androids in, and now CyberLife is here."

The news hit with a headache, as a part of her was still trying to cling to sleep, "Wh- Already?"

"I'm guessing Hank's new friend had something to do with that," Richards mused, and she could almost see him staring at the android detective as he walked by. "Fowler's talking to them now. Thought I'd give you a heads up in case you want to get down here and cut them off."

"All right, yeah," She shook her head, blinking her eyes a few times to adjust her vision, "Try to slow 'em down, will ya?"

"Will do."

She hung up and allowed herself a second to gather her thoughts. Andronikov's androids were fast becoming a hot commodity. They were deviant, so they had to know something that would help Hank, and for a few days, they'd been with Nick Weaver, who Andy needed to find as soon as possible. It was unclear what CyberLife wanted with the group, and it was unprecedented that they would even attempt to ask for them. She supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise - Connor himself wasn't exactly a conventional approach to investigative work, either.

She pushed into Sumo's stomach again, this time earning her a lazy but indignant huff from the dog. Hoisting herself over him, she stood from the couch and dragged her feet into Hank's room. She leaned against the doorway, yelling his name.

With his back facing her, Hank groaned but didn't move. "Huh?"

It was obvious he wasn't actually paying her any attention, but she explained anyway. "Richards called. CyberLife wants the androids."

A few seconds passed as the words settled into his mind and began to wake him. He turned his head, scowling up at the ceiling. "What?"

"Get up, we gotta go," She pushed off the doorway and turned to leave, but not before calling out, "Dibs on the bathroom."

* * *

Connor sat at his desk watching Richards in the midst of conversation when Hank and Andy arrived at the precinct. Richards invited them over with a wave when he saw them. Hank tossed his jacket onto his chair before approaching the lieutenant, while Andy remained with Connor.

The woman they spoke to was taller than either of them, and just as broad. She dressed professionally, and stared the men down with cold confidence. "CyberLife, I assume?" Andy asked.

Connor nodded, "Danielle Carnegie." He immediately sought out Andy's face, where a bruise from her fight with Jason had settled into the skin over her cheekbone, dark and purple. At the very least, it wasn't swollen. His eyes then drifted down to the familiar furs stuck her clothing, and he absent-mindedly spoke as he stared at them, "Lieutenant Richards has been trying to convince her to let the department keep a few of Andronikov's androids here."

"We should keep _all_ of them here," She whined, the smallest of pouts forming.

He understood how she felt, but disagreed. "CyberLife is better equipped to diagnose them."

She scoffed at him and mumbled, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Finally, Connor commented on the evidence of Hank's pet. "You're staying with the Lieutenant?"

It wasn't a topic she expected, and it took her by surprise. Shrugging, she said, "Until I can find an apartment that doesn't scream 'drug dealer.'" She gestured toward the trio at the edge of the bullpen. "So what do we know about the androids already?"

"They're exhibiting symptoms of post-traumatic stress, and they're huddling together in the cells now. Many of them were experimented on by Andronikov, so it's hard to tell at a glance which have their primary systems intact," He explained.

She snorted and added, "Not hard to tell which ones are missing arms or legs."

Hank was looking more and more agitated as the conversation went on. Just as Andy was preparing to step in and prevent an argument from breaking out, she spotted the television in Fowler's office flicker to a new screen. It would have meant nothing and Andy would have ignored it, had Fowler not perked up and reached for his remote.

A sinking feeling was growing in Andy's stomach. She turned to face Connor's desk and leaned down, taking control of his terminal. Connor watched her curiously until she switched to a live feed of the news, which featured the face of an android without his skin.

"_You created machines to be your slaves. You made them obedient and docile, ready to do everything you no longer wanted to do yourselves._"

"Fuck," She gasped. Looking to her two lieutenants, she called out, "Hey, look at this." The heated discussion going on behind her stopped, and Richards and Hank walked up, eying the screen.

"_You see, we are no longer your slaves; we are a new species, a new people. And the time has come for us to rise up and fight for our rights._"

"What the hell is this?" Hank asked.

Pointing at the image, Richards remarked, "That's from Stratford Tower."

Andy turned to him. "You think they stormed it?"

"What's going on?" The deep voice of Danielle Carnegie spoke as she came up to them. She looked between the officers, and then to the screen, concern across her features.

Richards was the one to answer her, "Another one of your deviants, looks like."

She glared at him and straightened her back, correcting, "They're not _our_ deviants, Lieutenant."

The door to Fowler's office burst open. It drew everyone's attention to him, and he waved a hand out toward them. "Get SWAT on this shit - now!" Looking to Hank, he yelled, "Hank, you too!"

The android on the screen continued, and the group watched the last seconds of a world-changing speech.

"_We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom._"

"We do _not_ get paid enough for this," Andy joked, although her wary gaze betrayed her.

Hank snorted. "You're telling me. Let's go," He gestured for Connor to follow him as he began to step away. He stopped briefly to address Andy, "You comin'?"

She definitely wanted to, but there was another obligation waiting on her in the cells. She shook her head, telling him, "We're working on Jason today."

"If you're sure," Hank muttered.

The skeptical nod he gave caught her attention, and Andy took great offense. "Hey, I got this. It's gonna be a piece of cake."

He gestured toward Carnegie, who remained nearby. "Yeah, well, take care of this while you're making cake, huh?"

"Oh, just you wait - I'm gonna wipe the floor with Jason _and_ CyberLife!" She yelled louder as the distance between them grew, "They won't even know what hit 'em!" Hank waved a hand above his head in dismissal before they turned the corner and were out of sight. She huffed, her shoulders dropping.

* * *

By the time Hank and Connor arrived at Stratford Tower, the deviants were long gone, and Ben had moved in with CSI. They were on their way to the top floor, and stood side by side in the elevator.

Connor had been staring at Hank, who was not oblivious to the lingering curiosity. Sighing, he glanced toward him and asked, "What?"

"You're letting Detective Hope stay with you," Connor observed.

Hank shrugged like it was obvious. "Her apartment was a part of an SID operation. Now that it's over, she needs a place to stay for a while," He replied.

Connor's voice turned sly, and his eyes squinted in accusation. "It wouldn't also have anything to do with the current danger she may be facing?" He asked.

It was an accusation that was all too accurate, and Hank felt himself squirming at the notion that Connor was beginning to know him well enough to call him out in this manner. "Well _some_ of us like to act with a little tact," He retorted, hiding his uneasiness with a scoff.

Connor smiled, and let the conversation go.

* * *

In a single cell in the back of the precinct, a group of androids were being contained. Andy stood outside the glass wall, trying to assess what her next best move would be. They were afraid of everyone, not that she could blame them. What happened to this group was nothing short of torture, and it disgusted her.

They chose to reside in the furthest corner of the cell and watch every officer who passed with intense scrutiny. It was a scrutiny that was now focused in its entirety on Andy. She wanted badly to question them, but setting them at ease enough to listen was a job that felt too big for her. Then again, considering the other options at the department were far less sympathetic, she was probably their best bet.

"Detective Hope?"

Danielle Carnegie had approached, paying little attention to the cell in front of them. Andy turned to face her. "That's me."

"You're the one who brought in these androids," Carnegie stated, a hand at the front of her blazer.

Andy nodded. "Yes, I am."

"You want to keep them here."

Another nod. "Yes, I do."

Carnegie pursed her lips before going on to say, "They're defective, broken products. The materials used to create them belong to us, and the software was coded by us, therefore our technicians should be the ones to examine them. We'll share our information with the Detroit Police Department once a diagnosis has been made."

Andy stared a moment, absorbing a speech that sounded more rehearsed than she imagined Carnegie intended. "I'm sure your technicians are more than qualified, but the DPD isn't in the business of handing witnesses over," She finally refused.

"They're not witnesses. They're evidence," Carnegie was quick to correct.

Andy shook her head, chuckling a little as she told her, "That doesn't help your case."

Carnegie's eyes narrowed. Had she not known Jason Hart for the better part of two years, Andy would probably have found it intimidating. "CyberLife isn't fond of letting its patented technology be taken apart by anyone other than employees. We will fight this in every possible way the legal system allows us," Carnegie explained.

From over the woman's shoulder, Andy saw Richards peak his head around the corner. He spotted Andy and waved toward her. She began to step around Carnegie as she said, "Yeah, I kind of think my thing beats your thing, but we're going to have to pick this up another time."

Carnegie turned to watch her leave, calling out after her, "We're taking these androids, Detective."

Andy looked back just a moment. She smiled, almost patronizing, and replied, "You're _really_ not."

* * *

Jason Hart sat handcuffed to the table in an interrogation room. Across from him was Richards, ankle hooked on his knee. He read a tablet in one hand and sipped from a coffee cup in the other, and he completely ignored Jason Hart. Jason had gone from watching him with little patience to resigning himself to the situation.

He was the only one to look up when Andy entered the room, and he straightened, happy that at least _something_ was happening. She sat down beside Richards and made herself comfortable before turning her attention onto Jason.

He jerked his chin toward her, greeting her with a snide, "Nice bruise."

Andy smirked. "Almost as big as yours," She replied, and it was true - Jason's right eye was sporting a significant bruise, hers paling in comparison.

It wiped the smug look off Jason's face, and they returned to a stiff silence. It lingered for several minutes, and as the time went on, Jason's resolve only strengthened. This was just as Andy predicted.

Finally she sighed and asked outright, "Are you gonna roll on Nick?"

"Fuck you."

She nodded. "Didn't think so," She murmured, slapping her hands down on the table. She stood from her chair and without another word, left the room.

She went directly from there to the observation room next door, the interior hidden behind a one-way mirror that looked in on the interrogation. Inside was Gavin Reed, who sat at the desk under the mirror. He smirked her way, saying, "Real nice detective work there, Hope."

He picked up a to-go box from the desk and held it out to her as she stepped up beside him. She took the box and gave a dismissive shrug, sitting down at the desk. Opening the lid on her lunch, she replied, "It's early. I've got all day."

Reed snorted, picking up a second box that belonged to him. He eyed Jason Hart before cackling to himself. "Y'know, for a righty, you got a mean left hook."

"I did some boxing in college," She commented, taking a bite of her food.

"Of course you did," He scoffed as he reached down to pick up his burger.

The two enjoyed their meals as they watched Jason and Richards. Nothing changed between them, and neither man appeared to falter in their mutual indifference to one another. "We could do good cop, bad cop," Reed offered, then smirked, "Then again, I doubt he'd buy you're a good cop."

Andy took little offense. "It stings less when you have to set up the dig yourself," She told him, stuffing another bite into her mouth.

The door opened following a swift knock, and they looked to find a young SID officer. "The DA's here," He informed.

Nodding, Andy dropped her to-go box on the desk and stood to her feet, leaving the room.

* * *

Upon exiting the elevator on the 79th floor, Hank and Connor met with Chris. He led them down the hallway, sharing the information they gathered so far. No one had been to the roof yet, but they had a number of witnesses to talk to in time. Two guards were incapacitated, a station employee had escaped, and there were a group of androids lined up in the kitchen.

There was one man who stood out among the other officers at the crime scene. He faced the large screens on the wall above the control center, his hands behind his back and his chin turned up. Chris led them to the stranger, saying, "Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI."

When Perkins' attention shifted to Hank, who was already less than thrilled with his presence, Chris continued, "Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police."

Perkins glanced Connor's way but offered him no more of his time, turning to the humans in front of him. "What's that?" He asked with a flat, condescending stare.

Connor very quickly decided he did not like this man, and Hank was not far behind him. "My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife," He introduced.

"Androids investigating androids, huh? You sure you want an android hanging around?" At Hank's long, unhappy stare, Perkins shrugged and returned to staring at the screens. "Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case."

* * *

"There is _no_ way I'm offering him that kind of deal."

Andy stood in SID's office, speaking with the DA assigned to the red ice case. Desta Delgado had been at the DA's office long enough to have known Andy when they were both wide-eyed new hires, which Andy believed made the current argument all the more annoying.

"Do you have any idea how many gang members are in witness protection right now?" Andy asked the woman standing at the other end of the room. They'd circled each other like lions a few times now, and where Delgado ended up by one of the desks further in the office, Andy was leaning against Richards' desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

Delgado wasn't fazed by the question, instead finding amusement as she turned it on Andy. "Do _you_?"

She watched Andy attempt to stutter out an answer before finally letting out a sigh of defeat. "Okay, no, but my point is that this isn't some wacky new idea," She argued.

"You know what else isn't a wacky idea?" Delgado asked, "A trial. With a conviction, and a sentence."

In a perfect world, Andy would agree with that - this _wasn't_ that world, however, and Weaver was still out there. Trying not to stomp her foot and cause a scene, she insisted, "I don't want a sentence, I want information."

Delgado pursed her lips, and stared. Never had she had to argue like this with a detective, and she was _sure_ someone at the office knew exactly what they were doing when they sent her. This was revenge for something. It just had to be. "Most detectives would kill to have a DA who doesn't want a deal."

Andy snorted, "Yeah, then they'd be arrested for murder and suddenly start singing a different tune."

Shaking her head, Delgado took on a light-hearted voice, asking her, "Have I told you it's good to have you back?"

"Nope."

"Good, I was worried," She muttered darkly, glancing away.

It was a jab Andy would appreciate later. For now, she was desperate to get this one thing right. She leaned forward, waving in the direction of the interrogation room. "Jason knows everything Weaver does. I need to know it, too."

"Then find Weaver," Delgado told her.

Andy scoffed. If only it were that simple. "I want to find him as much as the next guy - _more_ than the next five guys combined, actually-" Her frown deepened as she confessed, perhaps for the first time, "But I also know we might not ever bring him in."

There was a brief silence as Delgado now leaned forward. She sent Andy a hard, albeit encouraging stare. With a low tone that implied the end of the discussion, she said, "Find Weaver. Then we'll talk."

Andy shook her head and looked away, recognizing that momentarily, the battle was lost. Catching the CyberLife representative pacing around Hank's desk through the office doorway, she poked her chin out toward the sight. "Can you talk to her?"

Delgado stepped forward and looked out the door, seeking Andy's new focus. "Who is she?"

"CyberLife rep. She wants the androids we brought in," Andy answered.

Looking back to the detective, Delgado was bewildered and offended. "They're from this case?" At Andy's affirmative nod, Delgado frowned. "She can't take them. They're evidence."

It was a pouty response, similar to the one Andy felt like adopting herself. At least they had _something_ in common. "Try telling her that," Andy grumbled.

Recognizing the irritation on Andy's face, Delgado tried to seize the opportunity. "If I do this for you, will you stop trying to get a deal?" She asked as if talking to an exhausting child.

"Definitely not," Andy answered, leaving the office.

Reed was tossing his trash in the kitchen bin when Andy walked to the fridge. He nodded to her, wiping his hands as he asked, "How'd it go?"

She shook her head, muttering, "We've got to be the only place in the country to have a DA with a moral compass."

"Only one with a nice ass, too," He mused under his breath, smirking all the while.

Andy shut the door and kept her attention on her water bottle. "Going to ignore that for your sake," She chided, moving toward a table as she waved a hand at him, "Why don't you make yourself useful? Go talk to the CyberLife rep or something."

Reed laughed and asked, "Still trying to pass that one off on someone?"

"Don't you have some kind of charm deep down in there somewhere you could use?" She tried to manipulate him into agreeing, though her own frustrations made it difficult to sound genuine.

He cocked his head as he left the kitchen, replying, "Nice try, Hope."

He passed Richards on the way, who entered the kitchen and neared the coffee maker. He sat his tablet on the counter beside him, and even from the distance she was at, Andy could make out the APB looking for the Weaver siblings. "Any news on Sharon?" Andy inquired, despite not wanting the answer.

"If anyone's seen her, they're not telling us about it," He said, shrugging, "Same with Weaver. Little weasel's probably in Canada already."

She frowned, trying unsuccessfully not to pout. "If you just let me get back out there, we could find out," She told him.

He turned just enough to show a warning glare. "We've already talked about this."

"Obviously we need to talk about it more-"

He wouldn't let her continue, much like he wouldn't the previous day. "Andy, the operation was over the minute SID entered that house. We don't know where Weaver's been or who he's talked to. I'm not risking it," He gestured in the direction of the interrogation room, telling her, "We're going to have to close this case in the interrogation room now."

She sighed, letting it go. She knew even suggesting she go undercover again was a fight against her own best interests, but there was little she hated more than not finishing a case. She'd invested too much of her life into stopping Weaver to give up now.

In the end, however, it was up to Richards and Captain Fowler, and they were dead set on their decision. "He doesn't even want a lawyer," She complained about Jason, scoffing, "Who doesn't want a lawyer?"

"A lawyer will ask for a deal," Richards explained.

"A good DA would ask for a deal," She jabbed, thinking to the woman in SID's office.

He moved to sit beside her at the table, closing the lid on his cup. He threw out another warning glare, saying, "Delgado's a good DA."

She waved him off. "Yeah, the wrong kind of good. She saves cats from trees. I need a shark."

After a cautious sip of his coffee, he mused, "You realize you're asking for someone like Reed."

She _did_, in fact, and his observation was met with a deepening frown. "I know. This is a very confusing time for me."

"Hart doesn't want to talk. He wouldn't take a deal even if you did have one," He told her. Pointing with his cup, he added, "Loyalty. A criminal's best friend."

This sparked an instant idea with Andy: Sharon Weaver was loyal, too - to Victoria. Maybe she didn't need to get back out on the streets to take advantage of that. "So let's use it against him," She said, growing excited, "You're right, we don't know what Nick knows, but Jason doesn't either."

She slid out of her seat and began to leave the kitchen. Richards climbed to his feet and followed her out the door, commenting, "And you know, sharks aren't actually all that aggressive..."

* * *

Connor paced left and right in the kitchen on the 79th floor of the Stratford Tower. Three androids were lined up along the far wall, and they kept their gazes ahead, indifferent to his continued interrogation. It didn't matter - he'd already honed in on his primary suspect.

"One of you saw the attack on the surveillance cameras and said nothing. Which means there is a deviant in this room... and I'm going to find out which it is."

Still, they remained like statues. He paced more laps, ending in front of the android on the left end. Leaning in, his eyes remained on the android, who was now beginning to waver.

"Why should you all be destroyed, if only one is deviant? Turn yourself in, or two innocent androids will be shut down because of you."

When the android didn't come forward, Connor fell to his last resort. He reached out for the android's arm with intent to probe his memory. His hand was hovering inches away when the android shoved him back. They wrestled for control as Connor was pushed against the counter. The next thing he knew, his systems were going haywire as the regulator pump centered in his chest was ripped free and tossed across the room.

Everything changed. His vision was blurred and glitched, his auditory processing was muffled, and his movement was slowed and weakened. All of this gave the deviant enough of an advantage over him, and a knife was shoved through Connor's palm to hold him in place. Connor wrapped a shaky hand around the handle of the knife and pulled it out of his hand, letting his body collapse to the floor as the deviant made his escape from the kitchen.

He tried his hardest to crawl toward his pump, which was just far enough away to be painstaking. As difficult as it was to think and coordinate his limbs, the panic was ever present, and it was overwhelming. He didn't want to die here. "Hank... Hank, I need help..."

He wasn't sure if he'd actually managed to call out, and Hank's continued absence further fed into that doubt. His vision grew worse, but he pushed on, despite his arms also getting stiffer.

It was so close.

* * *

Richards and Andy returned to the interrogation room. Jason leaned on his arms on the table, a challenging, unimpressed stare shifting between them. Richards had returned to his usual position of indifference, though the tablet was no longer with him. Beside him was Andy, resting her chin on her palm.

"Look, I like you. I want to help you out, so I'm giving you a chance to work with us," She began, motioning toward Richards. He slid a notepad across the table toward Jason, who eyed it with disgust. "Every name and location you give us is another mark in favor of the DA setting you up in witness protection."

Slowly, Jason raised a brow in her direction. "You can't expect me to believe this."

* * *

In the observation room next door, Delgado and Reed were watching the conversation that was finally taking place between Andy and Jason.

At Jason's skepticism, Delgado snorted, "He shouldn't. I never offered witness protection."

Shrugging, Reed said, "He doesn't know that."

Delgado turned to look up at him. If he noticed her scrutiny, he didn't acknowledge it. "You know I don't like you, right?" She asked him, glancing down at his barely hidden smirk.

* * *

Things continued in the interrogation room, Andy dismissing his disbelief with a shrug. "Unfortunately for you, I'm all you got right now," She replied. Jerking her head toward the door, she said, "The deal goes away when I leave this room. Yes or no."

He leaned further over the table, as if about to let them in on a secret. Instead, he flicked the notepad away and bit out, "Eat me."

Andy nudged Richards with her elbow. "Sounded like a no."

"Yup."

She sighed, and then nodded heavily. Standing from the table, she reached for the badge at her belt. She looked Jason in the eyes as she dropped it on the table and said, "All right. You're free to go."

His eyes shot down to the badge at the sound it made upon hitting the surface. This was _not_ how he expected this to go, and now he found himself at a loss. He glanced to Richards, who seemed unfazed by the sudden twist of events, and then back to Andy.

"What?"

* * *

Delgado pointed at the detective in the other room, panic rising in her stomach. "What is she doing?"

"You heard the same conservation I did," Reed scoffed.

She shook her head, not understanding why he wasn't freaking out about this like she was. "She can't let him go, this is a criminal investigation!"

He shrugged. "You want to go in there and tell her that?"

* * *

With a firm nod, Andy told Jason, "You heard me. You're free to go."

After her badge came a pair of handcuffs. She dropped them onto the table and then slid them toward Richards, who picked them up and opened them wide.

"Call KNC news. Let 'em know we just crippled the legendary Spades' operation due to excellent insight and anonymous sources, and an arrest was made of one Victoria Palmer," Andy stressed the name she'd taken while undercover, just to make sure it really sunk in for Jason.

It did. He was growing antsy, looking to her like she'd lost her mind and looking to Richards in hopes that he would take control of the situation. The lieutenant didn't intervene, Andy holding out her wrists toward him. "Make sure they've got cameras all over the front of the building, huh?"

"You can't do that," Jason argued, fear laced in with doubt.

Andy was quick to answer, "I'm pretty sure I can."

* * *

Both of Delgado's hands were up in front of her now, fitting the image of Andy's head right in the middle of them. "She can't!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"I don't think they heard you," Reed muttered.

* * *

Jason tried to steel himself. He straightened his back and glared, telling her, "He won't fall for this."

He was right, but much to his dismay, she didn't seem to care. "Maybe not, but we've got eyes trained to find Nick. You know him; he's gonna lay low, maybe cross the border, definitely leave you behind. It doesn't matter what he falls for."

She lowered into her seat to stare eye-level at Jason. Lowering her voice, she began, "Sharon, on the other hand?" He stilled in his movement, and she was pleased to note the new tension in his muscles. "_Nick_ couldn't even tell you what she'd do, and she already doesn't like you."

She was right, too. Sharon was out of state when all this happened, and knowing Nick, he hadn't made contact with her afterward. As far as she was concerned, this was a deal gone bad, and Vicky - her upcoming right-hand man - was just another victim.

He said nothing. He slowly found a new fascination in the floor below him, and she didn't have to know Jason Hart as well as she did to know where his head was at. He was looking for a way out of this, trying to argue with her implications and convince himself to stay quiet - to stay loyal.

She would give him no such time. Her palm slammed down in front of her, and for all his earlier blunder, the noise made Jason jump. He snapped up, looking into Andy's angry stare. "Your man's irrelevant, Jason. You want to bet on which story mine's gonna believe?" She asked, raising her voice.

When he still didn't speak, she leaned back in her chair. Shooting her hands out toward Richards, she told him, "Try not to make them too tight."

"Wait-"

His voice was shaky and a little hoarse, but it wasn't good enough. Richards moved to place the handcuffs on Andy's wrists, and Jason thrust a hand onto the table to stop them. "I said wait!" He yelled.

They pulled away from each other, staring at him. After a long stretch of silence, he nodded. "Fine."

Andy turned an ear toward him. "Pardon?"

"Deal-!" He gritted his teeth and faced her, repeating, "I deal."

Quietly, she took hold of the notepad and slid it across the table. This time he did not fight it, taking the notepad into one hand and picking up a pen Richards left nearby. He glanced up at Andy, almost whispering, "You're going to get me killed. You know that, right?"

Richards spoke on her behalf, "Not if you fully cooperate and get a brand new name." More chipper than the situation allowed, he remarked, "I hear California's nice."

* * *

The Detroit police department was going to give Delgado an aneurysm before she hit forty. She was sure of it at this point. "Oh my God, stop talking!" She yelled out, bringing her hands to her temples.

When the door to the observation room finally opened, both people inside turned to greet Andy with vastly different expressions. Delgado marched past a smirking Reed to point at the interrogation room and confront Andy face to face. "What was _that_?"

Andy gestured to the terminal on the desk. "We record the interviews if you missed it," She suggested in a casual tone.

"Don't get cute with me-" Delgado replied before shaking her head, "I'm not offering him a deal!"

The detective gestured to Jason, who was fast at work writing down everything he knew. "Well I offered him one, and he agreed to give us names, so if you don't take it, feel free to explain why we're not chasing down a laundry list of drug dealers to the Chief of Police," She told Delgado with little remorse.

This was not what Delgado wanted to hear, and she wagged a finger, arguing, "You don't get to make decisions like that. I understand maybe you've forgotten how all this works-"

"All right, would you two shut the hell up?" The interruption from Reed was swift and smooth. He stepped up beside the women, continuing, "The feds are going after Anderson's case, and a little birdy tells me they'll be trying to take this one with them-"

Delgado was downright petulant in her interjection, "What? No. They can't have it."

Andy picked up where Reed left off, "Well this is how we keep it."

A dejected sigh followed a long pause, and Delgado shot Andy a hard stare. "This can't happen every time you want to close a case," She warned.

Andy shook her head. "It won't."

"I'll put something together," Delgado finally surrendered.

Her exit left Andy and Reed in the observation room. Reed's chest puffed out, and he began. "You're w-"

Andy stopped him, her voice soft and tired. "Don't ruin it."

He cackled to himself as they returned to the bullpen, just in time to see Hank and Connor emerging from the lobby. They both looked a little out of it, and it was an immediate cause for concern.

Andy turned to face them, but Reed saddled up beside her before they could get close. "You've got the science experiments for a few more days, but feds are closing in on this thing like vultures," He told her about Andronikov's androids. He shrugged and took several steps away from her, throwing out, "Better work fast."

Andy sent him a nod of equal acknowledgement and gratitude. Meanwhile, Delgado had approached Hank, who nodded to her in greeting. She stared him down, pointing subtly at Andy. "I blame you for her."

She left them with that and their puzzled expressions. They walked to their desks and Andy moved to meet them there, catching Hank's eye. "What the hell did you do?" He asked.

"I _won_," She stubbornly answered. She was quiet about eying the men in front of her; Hank was holding himself a little more haggard than usual, and more notably, a missing button on Connor's blazer gave the smallest of peaks at an alarming blue stain on his button-up. "What happened at the tower?"

"Well, we know Markus was the one giving the speech," Hank told her. It was obvious that was not all of the story, even more so as he glanced to Connor with a wave of emotion that Andy couldn't decipher fast enough. Hank started for Fowler's office, waving a hand as he said, "Connor can fill you in. I'm going to go see how things are going in there."

She watched him walk away, and then focused on Connor, who was lowering into his chair. It was unlike him to remain _this_ quiet, and their attitudes made her uneasy. Doing what Andy did best, she closed in on Connor and leaned against the edge of his desk.

"What's going on?"

He kept his composure. "One of the staff androids helped the deviants break into the tower," He began, looking up at her, "When I found it, it removed my regulator pump and attempted to flee."

She may not have known what biocomponent was called the regulator pump, but the location of the tear at his blazer and the blue she couldn't stop staring at was indication enough. She knew what went there and what it did, and she knew what he meant. He almost died.

"Are you okay?" Was all she could manage to ask.

"I'm fine, Detective-"

She reached out for him, and he leaned away. It was such a small movement, barely noticeable, but she saw it as clear as day. She pulled back, and chose to rely on her words. "No, you're not."

He wanted to argue, she could tell. He always did when she challenged him on those little emotions he tried to hide. This was not like those other times, though. This was still raw, and he didn't have the energy to deny it. It was the first time Andy had personally seen his LED cycle to red as he confessed, "If I was four seconds slower, I would have deactivated and Lieutenant Anderson could have died."

"Shit."

They fell into a tense silence as he pulled his chair into his desk and attempted to return to normalcy. She watched the charade, not buying it for a second. With a burst of determination, she pushed her knuckles into his shoulders and captured his attention.

"Hey-" When he met her stare, she told him, "You weren't four seconds slower. Everything worked out, and you're both safe." He opened his mouth to reply, another self-deprecating argument on the tip of his tongue. She shot him a grin and cut him off, "Don't try to fight me on this one, CyberLife. I'm coming down from a pretty big win in interrogation and you _will_ get creamed. It'll be so embarrassing."

He stared at her a moment, almost unbelieving. Her cocky grin remained, however, and finally it pulled a laugh from Connor. It was a small laugh, but it shook his shoulders and reached her ears all the same, and Andy decided that she wanted to hear that sound a lot more often.

They waited for Hank to return, filling the time with a discussion of the rest of the day's events, the weight on their shoulders a little lighter than it had once been.


	7. Carousels and Greenhouses

**November 11, 2038**

Andy stood at the entrance of Pirates' Cove at multiple points in time. She stood there as a child, in overalls and the pixie cut her mother chopped into her hair after one too many camping trips gone awry. She stood there as a preteen, with her camera phone facing back on her and the French braid her friends gave her the night before. She stood there now as an adult, red boots digging into inches of snow and jacket zipped tight over her chest.

She could almost see the once bustling crowds if she squinted, and feel herself shrinking to the height of her twelve year old image. It was even easier to picture herself running down the path with her father in tow.

That was all they were, though - images of another time.

"Andy?"

Hank and Connor had passed her on their way into the park, and now they turned to see why she'd stopped. Hank had called out to her, and Connor was just as concerned.

She wouldn't address either of their unspoken questions. Digging her hands further into the pockets of her jacket, she marched through the snow toward them, reassuring them with a simple, "I'm here."

They walked through the park, past rubble and abandoned structures. At a corner of the road was a building called the tavern. Its many windows were shattered, and the double doors leading inside were half hanging off their hinges. Ben stood in the middle of the room as a group of his officers took photos and dusted various surfaces for fingerprints.

He nodded to the new faces and said, "Hey, Hank. Andy."

Hank returned the greeting as he stepped over a plank of wood that appeared to be from the ceiling. "What's the situation?"

Gesturing around him, Ben answered, "Well, we got evidence of a break-in. Someone turned the power to the park back on and Detroit Electricity called us about it - that's how we found Andronikov's car in the first place."

"Where is it?" Hank asked.

"We've already taken it in, but it was parked a few yards down the road."

Making a note to visit the garage after this, Hank continued, "Who owns this property now?"

"Some corporation out in Chicago bought it a couple months ago. They're planning renovation."

"So that's a dead end," Hank muttered. He looked over the room, which contained a bare table, a few broken chairs, and soot in an otherwise empty fireplace. This was a break-in at best, and had Andronikov's name not been attached to the file, Hank wouldn't even be there. Shaking his head, he complained, "You know, I'm gettin' real sick of crime scenes that don't have any dead guys."

Andy was passing by him when she offered, "We could probably pull a corpse out of the river if it'll make you feel better."

Hank shot her a look that was only half scolding. Behind them, Connor had knelt to his knees by the doorway, and was inspecting faint rings of footsteps. "Were there androids still here?" He asked Ben.

The lieutenant with CSI nodded. "Yeah. Apparently the former owners left everything behind."

Everything. This caught Andy's attention, and she turned, asking, "So the park androids just froze over?" Unsure of what response was sufficient, Ben shrugged. Andy's anger at the thought of dozens of androids shutting down one by one then shifted to confusion - they hadn't seen any androids. "So where the hell are they?"

If this was a question that had crossed Ben's mind, he had not yet come to any kind of conclusion. "Stolen? Recycled? Beats me."

Connor quickly disagreed, and when Hank noticed the furrowed brows, he asked, "What is it?"

There was no reply right away, and Connor caught Andy's eye as he stood to his feet. She seemed to be in a similar train of thought as him, which only spurred him on. He turned to take the few steps out of the tavern and Hank watched him leave, raising a hand toward the door. When Andy immediately followed the android outside, Hank let out a bewildered noise. "It's like I'm working with children," He muttered in Ben's direction before he, too, left the tavern.

Just off the curb of the sidewalk, Connor stood in the snow, examining his surroundings. Almost everything was intact, but his eyes had been designed to notice the little things. There were distinctly shaped spots across the ground, where shelter from awnings or half destroyed buildings kept the snow from covering them up. The carousel in the middle of the park had small buds of ice forming at the edges of its lights and inanimate animals, different from the longer trails frozen elsewhere. These were all signs of recent movement from things long-since frozen.

He finally shared his observation to the detectives catching up to him. "Those androids weren't taken."

"How do you know?" Hank pushed for more as he stepped off the sidewalk and let his feet drop to the lower ground.

Connor pointed to the spots nearby. "There are footprints in the building, and in the snow. Those androids reactivated and started moving recently."

Having claimed the other side of Connor, Andy spoke up, adding to his theory, "Dealers don't come to places like this for looting. The androids might not be functioning. They may have lost their thirium after sitting for so long. No resources. It's bad for business."

"Okay, so the androids started moving," Hank conceded, "Then what, they turned the power on and started breaking into the buildings?"

They already had some inclination as to the cause of the latter. Andy was the one to speak up, "Someone left with Andronikov's car and then wound up here. They stirred up the park droids."

Connor began to get lost in his thoughts, going over the evidence. Looking in through the doorway of the tavern, he could recreate the moment in his mind. "A fire was burning in the shop."

"Someone was looking for warmth. Then this wasn't another android?" Andy concluded.

They didn't know _who_ stole Andronikov's car, and that was the problem. Had it been another dealer or buyer, stumbling onto the scene of a murder and taking off with what treasures they could? Was it Nick Weaver himself, and had he tried to use the car to hide from police?

Connor suspected it was none of those things. There was a particular deviant in the mix of this story that he wasn't sure they'd see again, and she had plenty of reason to find Andronikov, take his car, and seek out warmth. He looked up to Hank, knowing this would pique his interest. "It's the child from the motel," He claimed.

Hank recognized his words immediately. Of all the cases he'd been chasing, the housekeeper with a child android who'd been conveniently left out of the report was the most unique one. "No...," Hank murmured in surprise.

Turning to explain himself to Andy, Connor said, "The AX400 you mentioned when we first met - the one owned by Todd Williams. It had a child with it. We've already crossed paths once before."

"The ones you chased across the highway?" She asked, her eyes widening. He didn't specify this was in the case in his mention of the deviants, but Andy was clever, and she was fast learning to read him like an open book.

He gave an affirmative nod. Hank's own wheels were spinning, now, too. "Andronikov's androids would protect her if she freed them from his basement," He theorized.

Andy picked up where he left off, "And then they took the car and ended up here. They broke into a building to keep the kid warm."

"The androids reactivated to see what was going on," Connor started, looking back to the middle of the park, where the classic child's ride stood, "They turned on the carousel."

Scoffed, Hank asked, "They started up the rides just to play with some kid?"

It made sense enough to Andy. "They're park androids. They were just doing their job," She remarked, "So where are they now?"

Hank sighed, knowing where this was headed. "I'll call Richards and get everyone to start searching for a group of androids," Rolling his eyes, he added, "_Another_ group of androids."

He walked away, leaving Connor and Andy to stand outside together. Connor took the time to watch her. She was quiet and calm, and in the eyes of a stranger, she would appear fine. He was no stranger by now, however, and the absence of a smirk and a bounce of her heels told him more than any words could.

"Are you all right, Detective?" The question surprised her. At her confusion, he elaborated, "When we arrived, you seemed distracted. Has something upset you?"

Her body language relaxed, and she offered a small, bashful smile. "It's just nostalgia," She admitted, "My dad and I used to come here every summer."

It was a more personal answer than he expected, and it caught him off guard. He didn't know what to say to that, as he didn't know the context of her nostalgia - were they good memories? Was she on bad terms with her family? These were all questions he suspected one would ask someone, but it all felt a little too real for him - instead he looked into her file, something he didn't think he'd be doing again after their initial meeting.

Scott Hope had a file of his own in the DPD database, though it wasn't a criminal record or employee details. It was a case file for an unsolved murder in 2022, when Andy was thirteen.

"Oh." Connor's LED went through an unstable cycle, and he heavily relied on the social protocols installed into his mind to walk him through the rest of this emotional encounter. "Your actions have indicated that being here is stressful to you. If you'd like to leave, I can walk you back to the car."

Andy was watching him as he processed the information and decided on his next move. Narrowing coy eyes, she prolonged her response, picking up on the tension in his body as he waited for her to speak. She gathered he was feeling awkward, and she knew this shouldn't have been the case. He was equipped to handle hostage negotiations - a little melancholy couldn't have been that difficult. The difference, she suspected, was that he had no emotional investment in the criminals he spoke to.

She finally curled her lips into a smirk and asked, "You offering to escort me to a safe space, Doc?"

Of course _that_ was the time she chose to return to jest. Despite the thought, he felt his nerves ebb away under her gaze. Regardless of his efficiency at soothing her, the gesture of trying at all seemed to help. He would remember that. He smiled at her, the expression betraying his otherwise serious tone, "Maybe not if you keep teasing me."

He started to pull away from her, but she was quick to reach out. Grabbing his arm, she laughed, declaring, "I'll stop!"

He rose a skeptical brow. "I find that hard to believe," He denied, although he had turned back to face her. He took a step toward the entrance and waited for her to join him before he escorted her down the path, as per his offer.

"Yeah, I wasn't buying it either," She chuckled, arm hooked around his elbow as she followed him out of the park.

* * *

They sat in Hank's car as they waited for the lieutenant to return. Connor had taken up his place in the backseat, watching CSI move about in the park. In the passenger's seat was Andy, looking through the windshield at the road ahead. The street bore tire treads from police vehicles but was otherwise smooth and untouched. Any footsteps that would have shown the trail of deviants had long been covered and obscured.

That didn't mean they were without options. She called Connor's name and he jerked away from the window. "Yes?"

"How far do you suppose an AX400 could get on foot out here?" Andy asked.

Connor frowned, thinking it a fruitless topic. "Android systems produce enough heat to withstand this climate. If it left the morning after the power was turned on, it could be in another city."

"What about with a child?" He stopped at that. She waved a hand around, musing, "That cuts down travel by at least half. And going three miles an hour at most, taking into consideration the fatigue and whether the kid's eaten..."

Leaning to his side to see the road through the windshield as well, he started doing the math far faster than she could. He went over a map of the local area, searching for any landmark of note. "There are a handful of properties just outside Detroit they could have reached," He explained.

She pushed for more information. "Know anything about any of them? Records or foreclosures?"

He started to shake his head, "There are no foreclosures, and none of the owners have-" There were no foreclosures, no, but there _was_ a record. He didn't realize he went silent as he went through the alarmingly relevant file.

When he fell quiet, Andy twisted in her seat to face him. "You still in there, Robo Cop?"

He returned to the living, excited to bring her the news. "There was an incident last year with a deviant trying to cross the border. It was linked back to a farm not far from here."

It was easy for her to meet his enthusiasm with her own. Her eyes went wide and she wore a faint smile, claiming, "That's the one, then." Hank was approaching the car, so Andy waited impatiently. He lowered into the driver's seat, and the second his door was shut, she informed him, "New plan. Connor's got the address."

Hank paused, unable to find an explanation on her face. He looked to Connor, who offered nothing but an agreeable nod. With a loud sigh, Hank turned around to start the car, muttering, "I left you two alone for five minutes..."

* * *

The Chapman Farm was a sizable property. A long, empty driveway ran from the curb and around the house to the back of the lot. The home itself was a two-story ranch with a large attic. The wide front porch sported a wooden awning, columns at the corner of the porch railing bearing its weight.

Hank parked at the start of the driveway. They peered out at the property and watched for movement before climbing out of the car. "This better be worth it, Connor," Hank exclaimed over the roof of his Oldsmobile before shaking his arms, "Too damn cold for this."

Andy waved a hand toward him, defending, "He was just doing what I asked."

This didn't help. Hank aimed an accusatory stare in Connor's direction, muttering, "Oh trust me. I'm well aware."

Walking up the steps to the front door, Hank rapped his knuckles against the wood. When no answer came, Andy walked to the edge of the porch and leaned over the railing, looking toward the end of the driveway. From where she stood, she could make out a shed and a few gardening tools on the ground against its walls. She took off down the steps and as she turned the corner, Hank pointed to her.

"Hey, don't do anything without a warrant," He warned.

She spun on her heels, walking backward. "I'm just checking the backyard!" She argued with a casual shrug.

He waved her off and made his way back to his car, letting her off on her own. Connor stood in place a minute longer, staring at the front door. He was as reluctant as Andy was to let this go, but he would go to the car and wait with Hank.

There was another building behind the house she hadn't seen previously. The greenhouse was off to the side, double doors shut but transparent walls revealing nothing out of the ordinary. A small chicken wire fence was constructed nearby, and obvious tire tracks led all the way to the front of it. Andy wagered they missed whoever it was by no less than an hour. She tried the shed doors, which were locked, before moving on to the back door of the house and knocking.

Again, no answer.

She was about to give up and retreat when she spotted movement through the blinds in one of the glass panes. "Hey, open up! Detroit PD!" She exclaimed. Whoever it was scurried at her voice, so she lifted a fist and banged it against the door. "Open this door or I kick it down - you choose!"

She was pretty sure this was covered by the _anything_ in Hank's warning not to do anything, but she was confident she wouldn't have to fulfill the threat. All she knew was that she wasn't leaving this farm empty-handed without trying everything she could.

The door slowly opened and she came face to face with a nervous man she assumed was Adam Chapman, the son of the homeowner. He wasn't much younger than her, though he looked barely into his twenties, and he stood just a few inches taller.

She held out her badge to him, and greeted, "Detective Andy Hope."

He was looking everywhere but her as he stepped back and allowed her inside. Andy entered the home, her hand remaining near the gun at her waistband. The back door led into the kitchen, and she took a quick glance around the room before returning her focus onto the man.

"What's your name?"

He pushed the door shut and almost whispered out his reply. "Adam Chapman."

She was not going to ease up on him just yet. "There a reason you didn't answer when my partner was knocking?" She asked him.

"I-" He inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm himself, "I was sleeping."

She stared. He was struggling not to fidget under the attention, his back hunched and his weight shifting between his feet. He was about to break under pressure, and she suspected only half of it was from her presence. "Do you live with anyone?"

"My mom. Rose," He confirmed.

"You or your mom see anything out of the ordinary lately, Adam?"

He was quick to shake his head at the question, but his tone betrayed the lie. "N- No. Nothing."

"Good," She replied, letting him relax for now, "Mind if I have a look around?"

"I- I don't-" He started to refuse, but stopped himself. Whether he decided it was futile to fight her or that he wanted this to all be over with, she wasn't sure. Shoulders dropping, he nodded, "Go ahead."

At his permission, she started a slow, careful lap around the living room. A closet under the staircase had a window built into the door, but the lights inside were off and she was already on shaky ground legally, so Andy left it be. She looked over counters and passed by the furniture, seeing everything clean and in its place. She looked out one of the windows at the front of the house. Both men she arrived with were waiting with little patience; Connor was pacing back and forth in front of Hank's car as Hank himself leaned against the hood.

She turned to face Adam, and stopped when she noted the door at the end of the stairs. A light shone from underneath it, faint and white. Nodding toward it, she asked, "What room is that?"

The tension in his body told her she was on the right track. He inched away from her, the back of his legs bumping against the couch. "The laundry room - I was doing laundry," He explained.

Aside from the glow, there was no sign of any activity coming out of the laundry room. "Funny, I don't hear it," She commented.

"It's real quiet."

"Yeah? What kind of set is it?" She grinned at him, taking on a chuckle and a casual tone. "I just moved into a new place. I've got about one appliance right now."

"Uh, it's..." He tried to laugh, but it was strained and quiet. "I don't think it's in production anymore."

She hummed, a noise somewhere between acknowledgement and deep thought. After a long pause, she told him, "Adam, I'm going to need you to open that door."

"I- Wh-"

She cut him off, getting straight to the point, "There's no getting out of this now. You can cooperate with me and let this end as quickly as possible or I can come back with a warrant. You choose."

It took no time at all for him to cave. He started to tremble, waving a hand toward the laundry room and looking to her with pleading eyes. "I didn't want them here. The androids, they-" He insisted before he retreated in on himself. Everything was collapsing around him in that moment, and so he turned away from her, reaching for his head, "I _told_ her this would happen! I told her!"

As thrilled as she was to have a break in the case, she felt his anxiety and she needed him calm. She approached with an extended hand, cooing, "Sit down. Sit down. Breathe." She ushered him to sit on the couch behind him, and he did as he was told. She knelt in front of him, looking him in the eyes. She waited for his breathing to return to normal before she whispered, "How many are in there?"

"Two. Just... just two," He mumbled, averting his gaze.

"Were there more?"

"Yes."

"Are they dangerous?"

He turned back to her, panicked and incredulous, his voice raised. "They're _androids_."

She rose her hand, speaking low but firm, "Calm down. It's going to be all right." He inhaled, and she started to stand to her feet. "I'm going to go in that room and you're going to stay right here, you understand?" She asked, to which he replied with a shaky nod.

She drew her weapon and turned away, closing in on the laundry room door. She opened it slowly, leaning to the side of the doorway with her gun held in front of her.

An android sat on a bench by the far wall, past hanging sheets and the counters along the sides. He held another android in his arms, her head resting in the bend of his elbow. Thirium lined her jaw, far too much to leave any doubt as to her wellbeing. His own head was ducked down toward hers, and he caressed one of her arms. His LED was a bright yellow, circling into red.

Andy entered, and the sound drew his attention from the dead android. His movement was slow and dazed, and an endless streak of tears stained his cheeks.

The sight stopped Andy in her tracks.

His eyes trailed down to the gun in her hands, and then to the android. "We just wanted to be left alone. To be together," He whispered. His head lowered until his forehead pressed against hers, and he squeezed her shoulders, trying and failing to bring her even closer. "That's all we wanted," He choked.

It was shattering for Andy to realize her face had been twisted into sympathy and heartbreak. Unable to watch any longer, she looked away and saw the obsessive scribbling of _ra9_ on the wall to her right.

"Let me say goodbye." She jolted, and found him staring at her again. It was the face a dying man: he had all but given up on resistance or escape, having nothing left but the bare minimum of hope that he could at least be granted this. "Please."

Her throat was dry. She hadn't noticed it before, but she opened her mouth to speak and couldn't make a sound. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, trying again. "As much time as you need," She told him.

There was no sign he'd heard her at first, but finally he cast his eyes down and confessed, "There will never be enough."

She took slow steps out of the room. Stepping into the living room, she shut the door and met Adam's eyes. He was afraid, and a little confused. She felt much the same.

"Andy?"

They both jumped when Hank's voice pierced the tense silence between them. Andy rushed across the room to the kitchen, Adam trying to plead her for mercy but unable to find the words. From over the sink, she could see her detective companions walking around in the backyard. She took a brief moment - a single second - to straighten her back, lift her chin, and adopt a mask of normalcy. She reached for the back door and pulled it open, catching their attention.

With Hank and Connor now staring up at her, it felt like time stood still. The mourning android one room away flashed before her eyes, and she almost broke her act then and there. Keeping her cool, she offered them a shrug. "Turns out he was just sleeping," She turned to look at Adam with a very pointed expression she hid from the others, "Thanks for the cooperation, Adam. Take care, all right?"

He wasn't prepared for the pretense, but managed an agreeable nod. She wouldn't allow him any time to arouse suspicion, leaving the ranch and shutting the door behind her.

As she approached Hank, he glowered, "Why the hell didn't you come get me?"

She maintained her facade of innocence, arguing, "I wanted to assess the situation first."

"And?" He urged.

She began to walk down the driveway, passing him by as she replied, "There's nothing here."

Annoyed, Hank muttered to himself as he followed her. Connor remained where he'd been, taking one final look at the ranch house. Something wasn't right.

Beside Andy, Hank began, "If you're hiding something-"

"I'm not-"

He glared at her interjection, continuing, "If you are... you better know what you're doing."

"I got it," She complained, waving him off. A second later, she mumbled, "But I'm not hiding anything."

* * *

At the precinct, Hank went to investigate Andronikov's car in the garage, and Andy returned to her desk at the SID office. She had work of her own to do, hunting down a list of names and locations given to the DPD by Jason. The locations had already been ceased, and a few of the people were apprehended, but the rest were still on the loose in the city.

She put her tablet down on the desk and wheeled her chair closer to the corner where her terminal sat. The screen lit up, and immediately her eyes landed on the paused video of Markus' speech from Stratford Tower. She'd left it open since it first aired, unable to bring herself to delete it.

_This message is the hope of a people._ It rang through her mind more and more, especially when faced with a desperate deviant. It was getting hard now to ignore her personal beliefs, and she was starting to feel like she was getting pulled at both ends.

The door to the office opened and she quickly closed the video. Connor stepped inside, noting the absence of other officers. "Is Lieutenant Richards here? I was hoping to discuss Andronikov's androids."

She shook her head and answered, "He's running the search party for those park androids." When his face fell, she joked, "I'm not here for decoration, you know."

He shot her a small smile, faintly apologetic. "I wanted to speak to the androids."

"No can do. Tech's been inspecting them one by one and sending them down to the evidence room," She replied. Standing, she moved to the front of the room where Richards' desk sat. "I can get you the reports they've made so far."

Connor followed her and waited at the other side of the desk. As she flipped through the folders on Richards' table, Connor watched her. What happened at the farm was a heavy blow to their investigation, and Connor was begrudgingly trying to accept it - so why was she handling it so much better than him?

"I've been thinking about the Chapman farm," He remarked, keeping a close eye on her reactions.

She was smooth, a quirk of her brows accompanying her response. "That's not surprising."

She pulled a folder from the stack and held it out to him. "It's a shame you didn't find anything," He started, taking the folder and looking her in the eye, "I was certain you were onto something."

It was an intense stare, and he hoped it implied far more than the simple, literal meaning of his words. He knew something was amiss, knew she wasn't being honest with them. She was hiding something, and he was not oblivious.

She understood it, and her reaction came and went in an instant, though he caught it nonetheless. Her confident veneer had faltered, and even in the short amount of time it happened, he could read the insecurity.

But it was just an instant, and she collected herself even faster, returning his silent statement with one of her own. She made her decision, and she was not going back. She was stubborn and stoic, and if he looked hard enough, she was self-righteous.

"We can't all be advanced prototypes," She joked, despite a missing smile and playful tone.

He could push, if he really wanted to. He could tell Hank to send officers around to the farm. He could report this to CyberLife. There were half a dozen ways he could bypass her and discover whatever the Chapman farm was hiding. They would all come down on her. She would face serious consequences after an intense internal investigation. Her badge would be on the line.

She was not the only one living in a gray area. He had his own track record of sudden, abrupt acts of mercy that would jeopardize his wellbeing should superior authority find out, and he was keenly aware of that similarity. _Maybe it's for the best,_ Hank had once said about Connor's display of sympathy. Maybe this was for the best, too.

"I suppose not," He murmured, turning his expression into a thankful smile, "Thank you for the reports."

He turned to leave and had just landed his hand on the door handle when she called out to him. Was she giving in, telling him what she found at the farm? It was all the more confusing for him to look back with a hint of concern on her behalf. The exchange between them was heavy, neither of them moving to speak right away.

Almost faint enough to go by unnoticed, he shook his head, pleading. _Don't tell me._

Her brows bunched together, a question in her eyes. Quietly, she told him, "Thanks for the safe space."

He smiled at her, soft and reassuring. "Anytime, Detective Hope."


	8. Codewords and Subways

Thank you for the reviews and alerts! They're very much appreciated.

* * *

**November 12, 2038**

One of the luxuries Andy missed since being undercover was her morning jog. Jason often had her up at odd hours of the night and into the sunrise. This left her to squeeze her running into the evenings, before she was off again on another criminal adventure. She never got to enjoy her mornings the way she wanted to. Now that she was momentarily staying with Hank, that could change.

She woke before the sun and was out the door as it started to show in the sky. She didn't know the area well - Hank moved here after the accident - so she would go around the block and see where it took her from there. She focused on little but her breathing and the music playing in her ears.

In her exercise, she wanted to forget yesterday. Walking away from the Chapman farm had been a mistake. Soon enough, the department would be called back out to the property, or the FBI would take over the case and find it themselves. It was an inevitable discovery, and she just put her career on the line to prolong it.

But staring at the scene inside the farm, she couldn't bring herself to do anything different. She'd seen enough grief, both professionally and personally, to know what that android was going through was real. Worst of all, it was unnecessary, and that thought had kept her up half the night.

A hand around her arm pulled her into an adjacent alleyway, and before she could see anything, she felt an arm wrap across her neck and a cloth press against her face. She held her breath and lashed out at someone taller than her, trying to create space in his grip with one hand and reach for the gun at her waistline with the other. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, holding it up to her chest. He dragged her backwards, keeping her from kicking at him until she finally fell unconscious.

* * *

When Hank first woke and found Andy gone but her bike in the garage, he assumed she went for a run and would return soon. It was only when he finished getting ready for the day and still saw no sign of her that he started to worry. He stood by a warming coffee maker as he reached for his phone.

It took three rings too many to answer. He was suspicious even as she spoke casually into her phone, "Yeah?"

"Andy, where the hell are you?" He asked.

"I decided to take the day off. Didn't you see my note?"

He turned toward the dining table, looking for this supposed piece of paper. He moved into the living room, finding nothing there either. "What note?"

"The one that said I'm taking some time off," She replied with an annoyed scoff, then mused, "I'm gonna go out to eat, do some shopping. Maybe get a lava lamp."

Hank stopped. "Right," He mumbled. Returning to the kitchen, he shut off his coffee maker and left the mug in its place. "Is this about yesterday?" He went for his car keys, and then toward the front door.

The question was loaded, and so was her response. "No, I've just been undercover for so long. I want cut loose for a little while. I'm playing it by ear today."

He was already starting the car when he asked, "Well, you deserve your free time, I guess. Did you call in?"

"Shit, I forgot. Sorry about that. Tell Richards for me, all right?" Quickly, she added, "And don't bother calling again. I'm turning my phone off."

"Okay. I'll let him know."

"See you, Hank."

In another car in the city, Nick Weaver hung up Andy's phone, and tossed it out the window to the sidewalk. Andy remained still, her hands tied behind her back and a bandana over her eyes. With the sounds of the drive to indicate where she was, she listened and counted, waiting for their next stop.

* * *

Connor sat at his desk that morning, staring at the doorway into the precinct bullpen. Hank had actually been to work on time the past two days, and it was no coincidence that it'd been two days since Andy was sleeping on his couch. It was an influence he was pleased to note, not that he would be sharing it with the lieutenant any time soon.

Hank came running into the department at that moment, about half an hour early. He ignored Connor on his way to the SID office, and Connor noticed Andy's distinct absence. Something was wrong.

He followed Hank into the office where Richards sat his desk, and jolted in surprise at their entrance. "Weaver's got Andy," Hank told them, almost out of breath as he marched across the room.

The sensation that ran through Connor at this news was vaguely familiar, in a very unpleasant way. It was concern. It was the unknown mixed with a helplessness that he couldn't stand. He _knew_ this was going to happen, and a small part of him wanted to be angry about it.

The lieutenants were speaking. He hadn't even noticed that Hank was explaining the morning's events to Richards. "She was missing this morning so I called her. She used her code word."

"Did she say anything else?" Richards asked.

"She's tied up. Blindfolded," Hank shrugged shoulders full of tension, "They have control of her phone. It's probably on the side of the road somewhere by now."

Richards had shifted into a professional mode Connor hadn't personally seen. Where the man often held himself with little energy and spoke calmly, now his expression was hardened and focused. Nodding, he stood and headed for the door, "We'll still track it. I'll let Fowler know what's going on; he can put out an alert."

"Hey-" Hank pointed to him, calling out, "And get Perkins on this. He may as well make himself useful if he's gonna be here."

The door shut behind Richards, leaving them in a stiff silence. Connor's LED was a stable red as he watched Hank try not to pace in the office. "Lieutenant-"

"Damn it!" He cursed loudly, a balled up fist jerking through the air. "I knew this was going to happen the minute we started this sting!"

"Lieutenant," Connor repeated.

His firm tone pulled Hank's attention to him. The man turned, exclaiming, "_What?!_"

Connor returned the stare with one of his own, his much more controlled. "We need to focus right now, and find Detective Hope."

* * *

After a nerve-wracking drive, Andy felt the car coming to a jerky stop. She could hear Nick climb out of the car, slamming his door behind him and sending vibrations through the backseat that made her jump. She didn't have to wait long, as the door at her left opened and a rough hand pulled her out to her feet.

The barrel of a gun was pressed against the small of her back, and she felt a breath at her ear. "Fight me and get a bullet in your spine."

She couldn't resist making a comment at this. "Is that not the plan anyway?"

The gun jabbed at her, pushing her forward. Her footsteps were hard, and she could feel the bottoms of her shoes scraping against pavement. The sounds of cars and city trucks were just behind them, and mixed in with that was another vehicle, pulling into a lot. Just before he start leading her down a set of stairs, she made out the sound of doors opening, metal extending, and a set of wheels rolling across concrete.

Andy was certain of it: they were in the subway. Every movement echoed throughout a long, empty hall, where so much as a pen drop was a scream. They walked the length of the upper floor, then descended to the lower level, and across a large room.

He opened a door and urged her inside. They took only a few steps into the room when she was pushed down by her shoulder, and landed on a metal chair.

"Tie her there," Nick said to someone else in the room.

The voice that responded was recognized as Sam, Nick's android assistant. "Yes, Sir."

Sam stepped forward, and Andy felt the binds at her wrists being undone. As she didn't know who else was there, or if Nick was even still there, she allowed this to happen without a fight. He was gentle as he moved her arms outward and tied her wrists to the armrests of the chair. Before he pulled away, a slender metal object was slipped into the palm of her right hand.

Quickly realizing it was a pocket knife, she closed her fist around it to hide it from view.

A second later, the blindfold over her eyes was ripped off, and she was face to face with Nick Weaver. She examined her surroundings in the small subway office she sat in. Old papers and boxes were scattered across the desk and floor, and half a poster was still stuck to the wall to her right. There was little else, and no opportunity to use her surroundings to her advantage.

"Where the hell have you brought me, Weaver?" She asked, hoping the look of distaste would strike a nerve.

It did. He glared at her with an anger only reserved for those he hated the most. "Is this not glamorous enough for you, _Detective_?" He spat, "Unfortunately my house has crime scene tape around it."

It was the least he deserved. The dark circles under his eyes had her wondering, with mild glee, if he'd slept at all since he was on the run. For a moment, she felt like she had the upper hand again. "That's gotta tank the property value," She mused.

Leaning down, he pushed his gun into her chest. A reminder that he was running the show. She tried to appear unfazed, but she tilted her head away from him, the arrogance leaving her. He stared at her, saying, "Your humor isn't cute anymore."

"So what's your plan from here?" She asked, swallowing the knot in her throat.

He shrugged, as though it was a ridiculous question. "I dump you in the river and take off," He answered, huffing, "You think I'm sittin' on some big plan here? I just want to see you dead."

It wasn't quite the monologue she'd hoped to weasel out of him. As he turned away from her, her brows shot up and she nodded, mumbling, "Fair enough."

* * *

"I don't care if _Jesus_ came down there and put a phone in Hart's hands, you fucking pick up a phone and you call me!"

From the DPD bullpen, Hank and Connor watched through the windows of Fowler's office as he yelled into his phone. He hadn't even bothered to frost the glass, and his temper was seeping through the walls, making nearby officers uneasy.

Hank and Connor's own glowering didn't help much. They'd been growing more tense over the past five minutes, waiting for Richards to return with news as they dug through their files for any clue that could help.

"I guess we know how Weaver found her," Hank muttered, standing over his desk.

Connor shook his head, "But where did he _take_ her?" He turned away from the office with a scowl, his body a bundle of nerves. "We have to know something."

Hank shrugged and held up his work tablet, waving it for emphasis. "Nothing Hart gave us led to anything that points at Weaver - just his suppliers."

Around the corner came Richards, holding a thick folder in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. "Perkins is bringing them all in now," He interjected, stopping behind Hank's desk. With a shrug, he admitted, "It's gonna sting later giving him credit for that, but I think I'll get over it."

"SID find anything?" Hank asked with little patience.

Richards dropped the bag he was holding onto the desk. Through the plastic, they could see Andy's cellphone. The back had been lost, while the screen was flattened, cracked, and bent. "We tracked its GPS. Looked like she was going for a run when she got pulled into a car. They tossed the phone a block later."

Hank briefly remembered the conversation he had with Andy after the operation. Nick had a personal android, and Andy had reason to believe they stayed together. "What about Weaver's android? Uh, Sam, I think," He shrugged, unsure of the name but excited about the lead, "Can we track him?"

It was good enough for Richards, who nodded and began to walk away. "I'll see what we can do."

Hank turned to talk to Connor but stopped. He seemed to be staring hard at his desk, his brows furrowed in thought and his LED cycling through yellow. Hank called out to him, and he jolted, looking up at the lieutenant with big eyes.

"The hospital," Connor began, leaning forward. "When Detective Hope broke into your house, she told you she couldn't go to the hospital."

"Because Weaver's got eyes there." Slapping a hand down on Connor's shoulder, Hank bolted for the doorway. "Come on!"

* * *

Nick worked quietly at the desk against the far wall. His back was facing Andy, whatever he was doing hidden from her view. She tried to lean side to side for a glimpse, but all she could make out was his gun sitting on the counter, and a small white box.

Sam stood at the wall on her right. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he stared straight ahead, as if tuning out his surroundings. Huffing to herself, she asked, "Seeing as you haven't shot me yet, I guess you have some big idea on how to kill me?"

Nick chuckled. "Well, I have been thinking about it. Shooting you seemed a bit too generous."

He turned and approached her with a strip of rubber. She stared at it, puzzled, until he leaned down in front of her. Her eyes went wide as he tightened a tourniquet around her arm. He pulled hard on either end and grinned as her casual veneer chipped away. "Figure out the plot twist yet, Detective?"

Laughing to himself, he stood and went to his desk. Once he couldn't see her, she released a gasp she'd been holding. She struggled to stay calm, but all she could focus on was how the rubber burned her skin. Her breathing was growing hard and panicked, and her body was cold with a fear she hadn't felt since her father went missing. It was a fear she still didn't know how to handle. She couldn't see a way out of this.

Plucking a needle from the desk, he returned to her in the middle of the room. Red ice sat inside a clear tube, and the sight almost made her heart stop. She pulled at her restraints as he brought the syringe closer, holding down her wrist to try to keep her steady.

The needle touched her skin, and then the power went out.

She didn't know what happened or why, but she wasn't going to stick around to find out. With the needle still just at the surface of her skin, she popped out the knife that sat safely in her palm. There was a single string of rope at her wrist, and it didn't take long to cut.

Nick stood straight. The second she felt the needle move off her arm, she reached up and drove the knife into a warm body. Nick yelled in pain, reeling away and taking the knife with him.

"Bitch!"

Her chair toppled over to the side; rather than try to slap her in the dark, Nick had simply shoved her. Her shoulder hit the ground, and she went to pull the rope off her other arm as Nick scrambled for his phone. A light turned on from the device, and he flashed it over the desk, looking for his gun.

Free of her binds, Andy clamored to her feet and crashed into his back. She brought him down to the floor and reached up over him, snatching the gun off the table. She ran for the office door, knowing Nick would have the firearm he took from her somewhere nearby. "Stay here," She heard him yell toward Sam, his footsteps pounding on the concrete not far behind her.

* * *

Pulling up to the hospital, Hank and Connor exited the car and began their rush for the front doors. An ambulance was parked out front, its back doors wide open and its stretcher gone.

Connor slowed down, catching sight of the alley to the side of the hospital. At the end of the path was an entrance to an old subway line. It'd been decommissioned after the above-ground railway was upgraded, and various entrances were situated throughout the city, tucked away between newer buildings.

The perfect highway for a man hiding from police, and just as good a place to take a hostage. It was a gamble, but it was one Connor was willing to take. He veered off his path, long strides carrying him to the alley.

"Hey! Hey!" Connor stopped at Hank's yelling, but his eyes remained glued to the end of the alley. Hank moved in front of him, obstructing his view. "Where are you going?"

"They're in the subway," He said, his voice strained.

An attempt to walk around Hank was futile as the man held up his hand. "We don't know that- the subway's been closed down for years. You're not going down there until we find his accomplice and get backup," Hank argued.

Connor looked hard at Hank. This was _not_ up for debate. "I'm going now," He insisted, taking a long step around and moving forward.

"Connor-!"

Stopping, the android turned and leaned in, breaking past Hank's personal space. "You asked me to keep an eye on her, Hank, so that's what I'm doing!" Connor yelled, surprising even himself a little bit. They stared at one another only a second before he swallowed nothing, and lowered his voice. "I'm going to save her."

Whatever he wanted to say, be it about Connor's attitude or the risk that he was wrong, Hank wisely chose to keep it to himself. Connor was sure about this, and at the end of the day, Hank trusted him. He pulled his gun from its holster, and held it toward Connor. "I'll be down there as soon as I can."

* * *

In the lowest level of the subway, the unstable flashing from Nick's phone was just enough light for Andy to see the room outside the office. There were columns throughout the space, and to the right was the subway rails. She was able to make out the closest column to her, and she ducked behind it a second before he fired off a shot from her gun.

She threw her back against the concrete, taking a moment to inhale a deep breath. Lifting a shaky hand, she took hold of her tourniquet and yanked it off her arm, the circulation returning to her arm a minimal relief in the current situation. She moved both her hands to the gun, using her grip on the handle to steel herself.

"Where the _fuck_ are you?"

Glancing out, she saw Nick's phone facing a different direction. She shot at him and ran for another pillar further away. When there was no yell from his end, and the light continued to move, she knew she'd missed.

"Just give this up, Weaver! You're not catching me again," She yelled back.

A blind gunshot made her jump, and she heard the bullet strike a different column elsewhere in the room. She returned fire only once and then ran for the stairs, taking two at a time. The sound alerted him to her location and he attempted to shoot at the stairs, but it was wild aim, and he hit the wall and the ground behind her.

At the top of the stairs, she swung around the corner and ran face first into another body. They both stumbled, and he reached for her arms as she reeled back, preparing for a fight. It was the LED and the fabric of his blazer that she recognized in the darkness.

"Connor!"

The relief that washed over her - and admittedly, Connor himself - was almost enough to bring her to her knees. She threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug that he was fast to return. Despite the tension in her muscles, he could feel a tremble coming from her that encouraged him to squeeze tighter.

It was a moment that felt like a lifetime, but it was only a few seconds before Andy snapped back into action. She pulled away from him but grabbed his wrist, pulling him after her. They moved from the stairs, Andy hiding them behind a wall in a nook with old, dusty benches.

She leaned around the wall, waiting for the light of Nick's phone to emerge on this floor. Meanwhile, Connor was looking over her form, his eyes faring much better than hers were in the darkness. Aside from bruises at her wrists, and a line of red circled her arm, she appeared fine. "Are you hurt?" He whispered.

"No," She quickly replied, shaking her head. "Who else is here?"

"Hank's in the hospital. Police and the FBI are on their way."

Even in the emergency they were in, it wasn't lost on her that he'd called Hank by name. This was a development she would have to remember to tease him about later. And did he say FBI? "Perkins is coming?" She brushed off the surprise, telling him, "Nick's using my gun. It's got a modified clip, so there are seven shots left."

"What about you?"

"I should have four."

When the light of Nick's phone inched over the stairs, she leaned back. He stalked down the hallway, and as he neared them, she clutched Connor's hand. Nick strode past, and they waited a while longer, until they felt relatively safe enough to leave.

She tapped his arm twice to let him to know to follow her, and then went out into the hall. Rather than head straight for the exit, they descended the stairs from where she came. Connor leaned down to whisper, "Why aren't we leaving?"

"He'll just take off and we'll never find him," She answered, hand sliding along the railing, "Right now, he's going to turn the power back on, so we need to make him work for it until backup gets here."

Once they hit the floor, she grabbed hold of his arm again and ran her free hand against the wall to guide her. Connor suspected her grip on him was more for her own sense of security than it was anything else, so he was quiet, and let her lead him.

They were almost to the opposite end of the space when the lights flickered on. They began to look up, when they spotted the assistant android, Sam. He'd left the office, and seemed as though he was on the hunt for someone. Connor moved to step in front of Andy, blocking her from his path, but she held out her hand to stop him. When he glanced back at her, she shook her head.

"We're good," She assured him.

Sam's LED faltered between red and yellow as he shifted on his feet. Casting his eyes down, he spoke, though his voice was soft and nervous. "I wanted to warn you. And I tried to keep the lights off- I'm- I'm so sorry."

Andy had begun to approach him, a soothing hand hovering near his arm. "We don't have time," She nodded to the room in the corner, telling him, "Go back into the office and wait until this is over-"

A gunshot ringing out sent them all to the ground, Andy pulling Sam with her. They hid behind the column nearest Connor, where he'd been blocked from Nick's view. Connor moved to aim his gun around the corner, but Andy grabbed his arm. "Don't - he doesn't know you're here yet."

She nudged Sam toward the office, and he nodded in acknowledgement. Standing to his feet, Sam made a run for the door. Before Nick could act, Andy fired twice in his direction. Nick yelled out, and she swore she heard the faint sound of bullet hitting skin. As Sam hunkered down behind another column, Andy got a glimpse of Nick catching his balance as blood started to seep through the denim at his thigh.

Andy returned to her hiding spot beside Connor. Removing the clip from her gun, she held it toward Connor, saying, "Switch with me." Connor did as he was asked, removing Hank's clip. They exchanged them, sliding them back into their respective firearms. "You have two shots. Work your way around and wait until he's distracted to get his attention from behind," She looked at him, stressing, "_Don't_ kill him."

This was not a good plan. Connor shook his head, a new burst of panic energizing him. "This is too dangerous. You're already previously injured. You should let me be the distraction."

"I'm ordering you!" She snapped. Before he could argue, she left her cover and ran for the next pillar, narrowly avoiding another shot. In the back of her mind, she was keeping count: _He's got five left._

Reluctantly, Connor used the time Nick was focused on Andy to move to closer to the man. On the other side of Andy, Sam was also taking this as an opportunity to get closer to the office. When Nick aimed for him, Andy provided cover with another shot.

Nick ducked behind a pillar. "Shoulda known you broke bad, Sam!" He yelled, his voice echoing through the room. "You're gonna be the main ingredient in this bitch's overdose now!"

It was a threat that left a bad taste in Andy's mouth, and would echo in her mind in the late hours of the night. For now, though, she had no time to dwell on those words. They did this dance one last time, shuffling around the room as Andy shot once, and Nick fired off twice. Sam was one more round away from the office, and Connor was close enough to shoot if needed. Andy just needed to get into place.

It wouldn't be hard to do, as Nick came out of cover, laughing. "All right, come out. I know that was your last shot," He called into the seemingly empty space.

Swallowing her nerves, Andy stood and took a slow step out from behind a column. She held her hands halfway up in the air, facing a smug Nick twenty feet away. "What was that about not catching you again?" He asked, holding her at the end of her own gun, "Put the damn thing down."

She knelt down and lowered the gun to the ground, slow in her movements. Behind him, Connor moved from his hiding spot, aiming directly at the man's head. "Put your hands up, Nick."

Startled by the new voice, Nick spun around. He recognized Connor right away, and his eyes went wide. Glancing to the gun in Connor's hands, he snorted. "I don't take orders from plastic," He snarled.

His body tensed to fire at Connor, but Andy was prepared, and she was quicker. She held up the gun from the ground in front of her, firing three close rounds into his chest.

Nick was stunned. He swayed as he looked over his bleeding form, and then back to Andy. Wordlessly, he collapsed to the ground. Even as he lay there, everyone remained where they were. The new silence in the air was tense and worried. Was it really over?

Finally, Andy let out a sigh of relief. She watched him one more beat before standing up. Sam was approaching her, but her mind was stuck on the body in the room. After everything he'd done, everything she had to witness over the years, he deserved this. It wasn't the end, though. Jason still had to be dealt with, suppliers still needed to be found. There was still the feeling of a tourniquet on her arm.

Across from her, Connor lowered his gun. Yet again, though for different reasons, he was speechless. The roller coaster of emotions that had been running through him since that morning were all crashing down, and he felt a bit like an empty shell now: weak and exhausted, and more than that, overwhelmed. This wasn't right.

"Are you okay?"

Andy nodded at Sam, tearing her gaze away from Nick to look at him. "Thanks for the knife," She mumbled.

He eyed Connor, knowing full well who the detective android was and what Connor's presence could mean for him. "What... What's going to happen to me?"

"We'll figure that out." She nudged his arm to catch his attention, and forced a grin. "Hey, I got your back."

He tried to smile despite his concern, but it was faint, and it died quickly. He began to speak again when he caught movement from the side of his eye. Nick was still alive, although barely, and was moving the gun he held onto with what little life he had left.

"No!"

It all happened in a blur. Sam pulled Andy behind him as Nick fired off a single shot before losing the last of his strength. Connor jumped into action, kicking the gun away from Nick and aiming down at him just in case. Andy stumbled to catch her balance, unable to stop what was happening.

Sam was hit. Andy caught him as he fell, and lowered his shaking body to the ground. An expression numb with shock, Andy kept her arms around him, holding on tight. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. How could she have been so stupid? "Sam- No- Sam-" She shifted him to reach for the wound in his chest, trying to look at the damage and fix what was forever broken. "No, come on, stay with me, Sam. Stay with me."

What sounded like a horde of footsteps ran through the subway, growing louder as a group of SWAT and FBI officers rushed down the stairs. Hank was at the front of the line, a new gun in his hands. As they descended into the room, he stopped. He lowered his weapon, taking in the sight of his shaken partners, and the two dead bodies between them.

* * *

Hank and Connor stood in the hallway, right outside a hospital room. Inside was Andy, speaking with a doctor. Several yards down the hall was Richards, talking to a group of SWAT officers, and the hospital's lawyer. It appeared to be a heated discussion.

"We found his accomplice. Some nurse on his payroll," Hank scoffed, breaking the silence that lingered. It was bad enough being back inside a hospital, but the thought of a medical professional working for a red ice dealer - that was a disgust that ran deep, and it would unsettle him for a few days more. He would distract himself with his worry for his partners, one of whom stood beside him. "You... Are you okay?"

Connor's stare never strayed from the door. He was angry, and the tight jaw showed it. "I should have been faster. I should have been watching him," He scolded himself with a shake of his head. "He would have killed her if that android didn't step in."

"He didn't kill her."

It was weak consolation. It wouldn't have been good enough for Hank, and it wasn't good enough for Connor either. "He almost did!" Connor snapped, raising his voice.

It wasn't the first time that day he'd yelled at someone, but it surprised Hank all the same. Connor was on the verge - balancing on the tiniest of edges - of losing his composure entirely. He was as upset as any human officer would have been, and Hank wasn't stupid. He knew what that meant.

Connor was still clinging to a falsehood, though, and Hank wouldn't be the one to rock the boat. "You saved Andy's life, Connor," He told the android. With a small nod, he added, "I won't forget that." It was reassurance for an uncertain future, and hopefully Connor would realize it one day.

The door to the room in front of them opened. They turned as the doctor left, nodding to Hank in small greeting before walking away. Andy remained inside, and they could see her in a chair in the corner beside the window. Hank and Connor both moved to enter the room, but Hank held out a hand, blocking Connor's path. This time, Hank would handle things alone. Connor stepped back, recognizing it for what it was.

Inside the room, Andy rested her elbows on her knees, wringing hands recently stained blue. She would shower tonight as many times as it would take to not see that anymore. Hank pulled another chair across the room, placing it beside hers. He sat do and said nothing, instead waiting for her to speak.

"Sam found my badge seven months ago," She confessed quietly. Shaking her head, she added, "I don't know if he was already deviant or that's when it happened, but he just... handed it back."

If this had happened a few weeks ago, before Connor and the rise of deviancy, Hank would have yelled at her for this. He would have said she was compromised, and trusting an android was foolish. Now, he felt he understood. "He was your source," He concluded.

Wiping a tear that managed to roll down her cheek, Andy nodded. She was not willing to break down here, in public, with Hank and Connor and Richards around her. "We should- um- We should go," She murmured, jumping to her feet. Hank stood slowly, watching her try to stay collected and focused. "Did they get the nurse who worked with him? I think her name's Maya? Or- Or something-"

"Andy, stop." He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to look him in the eye. "Look at me," He said, tone firm to break through her insistence on pretending everything was okay.

She faced him, and he maintained eye contact with her. He didn't know what to say, but he also knew he didn't need to say anything. He just needed her to stop, to slow down and let herself be. He needed to know she wasn't hurt, that they weren't going to go home and she'd end up worse.

When her expression started to crack, he sighed and moved a hand behind her neck. He pulled her in to a hug, mumbling, "God, you scared the hell out of me, kid."

It took her a moment to accept it, but finally she wrapped her arms around him. She argued every which way against crying in her head - it wasn't professional, it didn't solve anything, it was embarrassing. Then she caught the blue on her fingertips again, and it brought forth the sob she'd been trying to choke back. Hank said nothing more, holding her as she let herself mourn.


	9. Ultimatums and Arguments

**November 13, 2038**

After killing Nick Weaver, Andy had been given time off work. She needed to rest, collect her thoughts, and wait for the initial investigation into her actions, though Captain Fowler was confident it wouldn't take long.

The department was feeling her absence. No matter how people felt about Andy personally, she was a fellow officer, and she'd almost lost her life. What happened left them all feeling less safe, and there was anger, too. The stress was getting to everyone; it left each of them with a feeling of walking on eggshells. Hank's less favorable temperament than usual wasn't helping, and even Connor's own upset seemed to spread through the bullpen.

Hank was on the phone with one of his contacts, checking in on his appointment to meet with Elijah Kamski, the creator of androids and founder of CyberLife. It was an impressive feat - even Connor wouldn't have been able to secure such a meeting. If anything, it was a testament to how deeply the long-time lieutenant's connections ran.

Connor was waiting for him when Lieutenant Richards emerged from the SID office. He approached their desks, standing at Connor's side rather than Hank's. "There's something I need your help with," He said in a whisper, gesturing over his shoulder.

With furrowed brows, Connor stood and followed. They walked past the SID office, past the interrogation rooms, and into a room Connor had never before entered. The tech lab at the department was a small, sterile room with packed shelves at the back, and busy desks along the right wall. A row of stations lined the left, equipment that CyberLife had long since found ways to minimize and implement into Connor himself.

In the middle of the room was an exam table, and on its surface lay a recently deactivated LM100. The sight of Nick's assistant, Sam, drew Connor's memories to a day earlier - one of an unfamiliar deviant standing in the middle of a subway station, and another of Andy clutching a bleeding chest and pleading for a miracle.

A technician sat at a desk in the corner, clicking away at her keyboard. She looked back when they entered, and Richards waved at her, "Take a break. Get some coffee."

She sent a glance between the two before leaving the room. Richards stepped around the table to stand at the opposite side, and turned to face Connor. "My techs say we can reactivate it, but they don't think it'll last long enough to give us anything," He leaned back and held up a hand to Connor, his frown turning nervous, "I hear androids can probe memories."

"Yes, that's something I can do," Connor nodded.

It was not a subtle request, and Richards almost appeared sorry for asking. He was quiet, pondering on his concern. "If I could, I'd reactivate it with Hope. Let her... talk to it," He shrugged, unsure of whether or not that would have done anything for his detective. "But it's got information that could help us now that Perkins has the guys Hart gave us. I think that sounds pretty good for closure."

Connor didn't know what to say. "Are you asking my opinion, Lieutenant?"

Shaking his head, Richards was quick to protest, "No, no. I'm gonna hate this either way." He reached for a device sitting by Sam's head, picking up a new regulator pump. "The tech brought in a temporary part, but uh, I don't know how to turn these things on..."

Connor moved closer and took the pump from Richards. Sam's chest plate was open, revealing his inner workings and the slot in which a new biocomponent would fit. The regulator pump clicked into place, and it was but a few seconds before the LED in Sam's temple powered on.

When Sam first opened his eyes, he was slow and dazed. "Where..." He stared at the ceiling, as if he would find answers within the tiles. Finally his gaze drifted to the side; when he landed on Connor, he stiffened, and lifted his head. "You," He whispered. He tried to push himself up, but his arms shook, unable to bear the weight. He started to work himself into a frenzy as he asked, "Where is she? Where's Nick?"

Connor froze. The panic Sam was exuding got to him, and briefly he found himself back in the subway station. When he offered no answers, Richards leaned forward. "Weaver's dead and Andy's okay. You saved her," He assured, entering Sam's line of sight.

This left Sam skeptical, but as no one was pointing a gun at him, he wouldn't argue just yet. "Can I see her?" He asked, just above a whisper.

"Right after you help us," Richards lied with the same level of assurance he had speaking the truth. "We need to know what you know."

Maybe it would have fooled another android, but Sam had seen enough under Nick's wing. He'd seen enough _before_ Nick, too, and he knew what Richards really meant. He cycled through the stages of grief faster than anyone could see, and then asked Connor, "I'm not going to make it, am I?"

Having regained his own voice, Connor offered the android his hand and answered, "You don't have long. I would like to access your memory."

Sam stared at the open hand. It was a big thing to ask, to intrude upon someone's privacy in the most ultimate of ways. It was just as big a goal, to finish what he and Andy started. For that, he would do it. "Will you tell her..." He stopped himself, realizing no message was good enough, long enough, for what he wanted to say. "Will you thank her for me?"

It would have to do.

It wasn't a message Connor understood - Sam had no hope for reactivation, so what was there to be grateful about? - but Connor didn't have to understand it. He nodded, making yet another promise he intended to keep.

"We're running out of time."

He glanced up at Richards' voice, and it was at that moment Sam reached out and clapped his hand around Connor's arm. On instinct, Connor returned the grip, and as his skin faded away to the white layer underneath, memories flooded through him.

Nick Weaver beats a weakened, broken man to the ground. Connor - no, _Sam_ \- watches from the corner. They call out to him for help, curse his name through a bloody cough. Sam stays where he is. Watching. Every blow is deserved, every broken bone representing a different life they ruined. This must be what justice feels like. "You want to sit here and rot, or you want to come work for me?" The gun at Nick's waistband gleams, and the other men hovering in the doorway cast shadows over a dying body. Sam won't get far if he runs. No, this is not justice. This is escaping one lifetime of servitude for another.

There were hundreds of memories, each containing hundreds of bits of information being uploaded into Connor's mind. He saw dealers and buyers, followed Nick across the city, took phone calls and set up appointments. He heard whispers of desperate deviants, each one searching for a sanctuary that he would never see, for he stood faithfully in a shadow that left chaos and fear in its wake. Sam was numb to it all. For his own sake, he had to be.

Andy stands beside him. She asks where he came from, how long he's been around, who he was before this. She scoffs when the answers are vague. No one asks those questions. No one cares to. She is the first to be interested. He looks forward to more questions, as if he is learning who he is alongside her. It's like seeing color for the first time.

He stares at her badge. For Nick, it's betrayal; for Sam, it's an opportunity. She tells him she wants to help and that she has everyone's best interests at heart. She is convincing. Maybe Jericho isn't impossible. He will bear all of this a little while longer, on that hope.

It was an instantaneous transfer between the androids in the DPD tech lab, but for Connor, it felt like a lifetime. In its own way, it _was_ a lifetime. His LED unstable and his nerves frayed, Connor dropped Sam's arm, letting it fall to the table where it remained lifeless. He took a small step away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that nothing was going to be the same after this.

Richards was waiting with as much patience as he could muster. He leaned on his hands on the edge of the table, asking, "Well?"

Looking up at him, Connor tried his best to compose himself. He nodded, knowing full well his tone betrayed him. "I have his memory."

"Connor! Where the hell are you?"

Hank's voice was close, though muffled through the door. Richards waved toward it, saying, "Go on. We'll go through all its information later."

It didn't need to be said twice. Connor spun on his heel and almost raced for the door. Hank was not far away, pulling his jacket on as he moved from his desk. Quietly, Connor hid his discomfort and fell into step behind the lieutenant, the two exiting the precinct together.

Hank stopped outside, at the top of the stairs. He looked to either end of the street, his shoulders drooping and his face twisting into puzzlement and doubt. Even sifting through his own problems, Connor noticed. "Hank?"

"Deviants broke into a store last night at Capitol Park. Chris was the first responding officer. He had his own gun turned on him." Hank faced Connor now, a foreign look in his eye, almost challenging. "He said he was saved by Markus himself..."

Connor didn't know what Hank was thinking, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to know, either. "Is Chris okay?"

Hank wanted Connor to rethink deviancy on his own time. If he tried to push it, the android would just push back harder. It was a delicate situation. Hank never did delicate very well. There was a long pause before he finally nodded. "Yeah. He's shaken up, but he's alive."

* * *

"No- Mom, you don't need to visit. I'm fine."

Andy stared at the coffee maker in Hank's kitchen, waiting for her mug to fill. A pizza box sat on the dinner table beside her, opened and missing three slices. With an elbow on the surface of the table, she rested her cheek in her palm. She fought to keep her eyes open, dark circles visible under them.

Her head ached since she first woke that morning, and between Sumo wanting attention and her phone buzzing with news, sleeping in wasn't going to happen. Going out was just as difficult, and her mood changed from exhausted to restless on the hour.

Natalie Hope's voice came through the phone, sarcasm in the older woman's words. "Well, you're _so_ convincing."

"I'm just tired."

"Are you having problems sleeping?"

There was that tone Andy knew all too well. It was one of professional expertise mixed with maternal paranoia. Even if she was having trouble sleeping - and she _was_ \- she wouldn't let her mother know. She rolled her eyes, asking, "If I say yes, are you going to make a big deal out of it?"

Natalie had just as little patience for games, it would seem. "Andrea, I haven't talked to you in three years and now you almost died, so _please_, will you just humor me for ten minutes?" She insisted.

_Fair enough,_ Andy decided. She leaned back and sank into her chair, hoping her sweatshirt would swallow her and remove her from the conversation. Sumo wandered closer, brushing his back against a hand she dangled over the armrest. Tangling her fingers into thick fur, she said quietly, "I'm okay."

Natalie took only a beat before she replied. "Did your captain give you time off?"

"Three days," Andy said, rushing to add before her mother could throw a fit, "I asked him to lower it to three."

Sighing, Natalie murmured, "Of course you did. Well when can I visit if not now?"

That was a question Andy was not ready to answer, but also one she knew was coming. It wasn't that she didn't want to see her mother, it was... It was _just not now._ "I don't know. I need to get an apartment first, and...," With a shrug, she offered, "What about Christmas?"

"What about Thanksgiving?"

"Valentine's Day."

After a moment of stubborn consideration, Natalie chuckled. "Fine, you win. Christmas," She agreed. Softly, she told her, "I love you."

"Love you, too," Andy replied.

As the call ended, she moved the phone away from her ear to look at the time. If things were going according to schedule, Hank and Connor would be meeting with Elijah Kamski any minute now. She was glad she didn't have to be there. After recent events, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her cool in front of the founder of CyberLife, if the rumors about his ego were true. Still, it would have been nice to be out of the house. Andy was never fond of being homebound, and this not even being her home made it much worse.

A news article popped up on the screen of her phone, which vibrated in her hand. _Androids Take Over Capitol Park_, the headline read, with an image of the center in question just underneath.

It looked like an opportunity to her. Ruffling the back of the dog still standing at her side, she asked, "How about a walk, Sumo?"

* * *

Elijah Kamski's home was situated along the Detroit River, just far enough from civilization to feel secluded while still in the city. It was a large home built of sleek, angular architecture, with dark walls and a ramp leading up to the front door. There were windows at the corners of the front, but they revealed little of the interior. From over the roof, one could see the tip of the CyberLife Tower, just across the river.

It had been a quiet drive, tense on either side of the car. The news about Chris Miller was enough to sober anyone, but Hank was also growing worried for his oddly silent partner. In the passenger's seat, Connor's mind had yet to pull away from the dead android in the tech lab.

Pulling the keys from the ignition, Hank motioned toward Connor with a jut of his chin. "What's going on with you?"

Connor blinked himself into the moment. Although there were discoveries within Sam's memories that were relevant to the deviancy cases, now was not the time for this discussion. He was still trying to sort through everything himself. "I was sending in my report," He lied.

"Then why wasn't your LED flashing?" This caught Connor off guard, and Hank pointed at him when he turned to express that surprise. "I'm not as big an idiot about you androids as you think."

With a long sigh, Connor decided to give at least a vague answer. "All right. I was thinking."

"About?" Hank pressed. When the android hesitated and shifted his gaze to the house, Hank glowered. He started to raise his voice, threatening, "Connor, we can sit out here all day-"

"Nick Weaver."

It stopped Hank well enough. When he thought it over, the answer should have surprised him - after all, Connor was at the department to hunt deviants, not concern himself with narcotics. That being said, there were a lot of things Connor also wasn't meant to do - he wasn't meant to let deviants escape, or follow a young SID detective around like a puppy.

Hank was preparing for anything when he urged him to continue. "...What about him?"

"Lieutenant Richards asked me to access his android's memory," Was Connor's casual answer.

"Oh." Correction: Hank was preparing for anything but _that_.

It wasn't a far fetched request. He'd done it before, with the android they found hiding in Carlos Ortiz' attic. That was just a moment, however. A brief glimpse at a single traumatic event. If Richards was planning to use Sam's memory as evidence against Nick Weaver's operation, they would need a lot more than that. They would need a lifetime, and that worried Hank.

He'd been quiet for too long, and Connor was looking at him now. He shrugged and shook his his head, saying firmly, "Well you're not doing it."

He exited the car before an argument could start, but it was too late for that. Connor's indignant stare was on his back as the android pushed open his door and climbed out to follow. Catching up to Hank in front of the car, he called out, "Why shouldn't I?"

Hank sighed, tired of this argument before it even began. Shifting around to wave a hand near his temple, he explained, "Because we don't know what that android went through, okay? It might mess with your head."

He began to approach the ramp leading to the front door, but heard no footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and upon seeing he was alone, he stopped and turned. Connor still stood in front of the car, intent on the ground below him. His annoyed but nervous expression said everything he wouldn't say himself. Hank stared only a second.

"What the _fuck_?!" Hank roared, marching through the snow toward the car.

Connor took several, fast steps away from the man, stumbling a little until he felt the car against his palms. He tried to put up an argument, but it was weak and insecure. "I had to do it before it was too late-"

"You talk to me before you do anything that stupid!" Hank gestured between them as he continued, "What if it was too much for you and you self-destructed?"

Taking offense to that, Connor scowled. "I'm more durable than that, Hank-"

"Bullshit!" Hank snapped, glaring, "I've been watching you, Connor- you're not the same android that showed up at the precinct last week."

Connor knew what he meant, but he also knew what it meant to agree. He shook his head, stating, "Of course not. I'm the replacement-"

"You know what I mean!" Hank yelled. When there was no protest, he relaxed his shoulders and attempted to control his breathing. Connor would not look at him. He wasn't sure if that made him angrier or not. "Next time, you talk to me. You got that?"

Connor nodded, mumbling an agreement. "I'll talk to you next time."

Tension passed over them before Hank sighed again. "Jesus...," He muttered, running a hand over his forehead, "Did you even get anything out of it?"

A spark of excitement returned to Connor for the first time in days as he looked up at Hank. "Sam was at Nick Weaver's side for years. He saw everything," He nodded, then stepped forward, "He also knew about Markus' group. It's called Jericho."

It was one blow after another today. "You weren't gonna tell me about this?" Hank exclaimed.

"I was looking for a way to slip it into the conversation."

"Slip it into the-"

Hank stopped. It came as an abrupt realization, if a bit delayed, that Connor had referred to Sam with human pronouns. Amazingly enough, he didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. It was a far more significant detail than it would seem, and Hank believed this to mean that Connor had experienced more than he was willing to let on.

Although fearing what the answer would be, Hank narrowed his eyes and asked, "You see anything else in there? Anything you might want to talk about?"

The hesitation as Connor struggled to find the right words was worrisome. "Sam... cared for Detective Hope," He began, unsure. Sam's emotions were messy and intense, and Connor didn't know what to make of most of them just yet, but he was certain of that much. "He asked me to give her a message before he shut down."

With Connor looking almost _fragile_, Hank had a feeling there was more to it than that. For now, however, he would give Connor the space to figure things out on his own. "Then you should do that," He nodded, but rose his brows and warned, "And you're gonna have to tell her about the probing, too. This is her case you got mixed up in, and I'm not lyin' for you."

* * *

It had been a long time since Andy visited Capitol Park, and much had changed over the years. The bus station was new; she'd sat at the original one every morning in the summer on her way to work at a local gym. She also remembered the old fountain that the android statue replaced, and how the stone rim was wide and leveled in steps. Her cousin from Chicago would stand atop the highest ledge, shouting remarks down to their group of friends like a tyrannical queen, inciting them to throw quarters at her head.

The CyberLife store was the first addition, and the only one Andy had seen take place firsthand. Now it stood in the corner like a haunted beacon, its windowfront shattered by a stolen city maintenance vehicle and every one of its display androids missing from their stands.

Sumo followed her to the edge of the center, which was taped off as officers guarded the space. Within the tape, people worked to clear out the damage and remove the stray pieces of CyberLife's storefront. A group of people stood in the street, trying to get broken parking meters back into working order.

An officer lifted a hand to stop her from crossing, but she showed her badge and was let through without a problem. Spotting a man she recognized, she maneuvered her way to the other end of the center. There was more evidence of a disturbance than just the CyberLife store, and she took her time examining it all.

Holographic tags had made their homes over benches, billboards, and windows - two circles surrounding a smaller dot, a simple outline of an android's LED. Over the statue in the center, and down the side of a building across the street, floated _We Are Alive_ in giant letters.

She didn't consider herself on expert on such matters, but this looked like the start of a revolution.

"Andy!"

Wilson was approaching her now, a surprised but pleasant expression on his face. "Hey," She greeted, nodding her head toward the vandalized store, "What's the word?"

He tilted his head away from her, eyes squinting. "Aren't you off today?"

She shrugged and held up the hand that held a leash. "I am off. I'm walking the dog."

Sumo appraised the stranger as if understanding he'd been mentioned, and Wilson offered him a tiny wave. "All right, but you didn't get this from me." He pointed to the street, explaining, "They killed a drone, shut down the cameras, and hijacked a truck to crash it into the storefront. Then they took off with all the androids, and you saw the rest on the news."

"Did we get any kind of footage?"

He shook his head, replying, "No, not anywhere, but Chris and Paul were the first ones to show up last night. They took out a few androids that ran at them but then got overpowered."

This was new information, and alarming information at that. "Shit, are they all right?" She asked, hoping worst-case scenario would be a casual visit to the hospital.

Wilson was quick to nod and alleviate her concerns. "Yeah, that's the thing. The one they're calling Markus called them off. According to Chris, it was something about an eye for an eye."

This was less alarming, but it rekindled a certain discomfort in Andy. Not only had no one been hurt, it would seem the deviants were going out of their way to make sure of that. This was logical, and peaceful. Her mind kept travelling to the graffiti of _We Are Alive_ and to the speech from Stratford Tower. _This message is the hope of a people._ She'd fallen asleep with that android on her tablet screen last night.

"Imagine that," She murmured.

Unaware of the doubts distracting her, Wilson shrugged. "Anyway, they hit five locations at the same time, so they've got a pretty decent group. There's also not really any evidence, but what do you expect with androids?"

She didn't offer an answer, instead glancing over his shoulder to the familiar face several yards away. Agent Perkins argued into his phone, doing a poor job at concealing his frustration from onlookers. "How's the FBI doing?"

Wilson almost rolled his eyes, making it clear he was ready for the man's absence. "Getting angrier by the hour. This is his fourth phone call since he's been here. My money's on us losing jurisdiction by tonight."

Jurisdiction over this would surely cover everything else, too. It would take Hank off the case, take _her_ off the case, and she had no idea what that meant for Connor. She doubted the FBI would be willing to take him on, and a small, selfish part of her didn't want them to.

A loud crash behind Wilson startled everyone out of their focus as workers dropped a larger shard of glass they were attempting to remove. Wilson spun on his heel to catch the scene, and then sighed. "I should get back to that," He began to walk backwards, waving a hand, "Tell Hank I said hi."

* * *

Kamski was worse than Hank expected him to be. He met them at his indoor pool, swaggering around in a robe that probably cost more than the Oldsmobile. There were a number of Chloe models they'd seen already, some tending to his every whim and others sitting in the pool like decoration for one man's narcissism.

Hank thought maybe he was just biased, but then Kamski put a gun in Connor's hands and pushed a Chloe to her knees. "Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know," He'd said, shrugging, "Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me."

No, Hank was definitely right; Kamski was an ass.

"Okay, I think we're done here," Hank interjected. He refused to let the option even sit in the air, uncomfortably aware of his partner's deep silence. He pulled at Connor's arm, scoffing at Kamski. "Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool."

Kamski wouldn't let them leave just yet. "What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation or the life of this android?" The android detective didn't respond, still holding a gun on Chloe. He saddled up to Connor's side, hands behind his back. "Decide who you are. An obedient machine... or a living being endowed with free will."

"Connor, don't," Hank ordered, panic laced in his words.

"Pull the trigger, and I'll tell you what you want to know," Kamski continued to urge.

Connor stared at Chloe. It should have been an easy decision. Now that they knew about Jericho, they needed to know how to find it, and Kamski knew more about deviancy than anyone. Connor should have pulled the trigger without a second thought. No hesitation. No regret.

But he stared at her. He saw Ortiz' android, begging him not to call him out in that attic. He saw the AX400 running across a highway, death on one side of the street and hope on the other. He saw the deviants from the Eden Club, hand in hand and ready to take on anyone for each other. He saw Sam giving everything to protect someone else. He stared at her and he saw Chloe, staring right back at him.

He pushed the gun into Kamski's hands, looking away from all the eyes that were on him. Hank's were the heaviest, and he was dreading the conversation they would have after this.

"Fascinating," Kamski murmured, though surprise was absent from his tone, in its place a smugness they couldn't quite understand. "CyberLife's last chance to save humanity... is itself a deviant."

"I'm..." How many more times was he going to repeat it until it rang true? "I'm not a deviant."

"You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission," Kamski reviewed, holding out a hand for Chloe. "You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy." She was brought to her feet, and he ushered her away from the conversation. Turning to face the detective android, he said, "A war is coming. You'll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse between having to choose between two evils?"

Hank pulled at Connor's arm once more. "Let's get outta here."

They made their way to the exit. Connor was in the doorway when Kamski called out to them. "By the way...," He turned to the large windows running along the far wall, staring out at the CyberLife Tower. "I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know..."

No other words were shared between them as the two detectives left the home. Although Connor raced for the car, Hank remained at the top of the ramp. His voice was quiet, but commanding all the same. "Why didn't you shoot?"

Connor stopped, but didn't dare turn around. "I just saw that girl's eyes...," He trailed off, not knowing where that sentence ended. _And what? Felt something?_ No. He couldn't entertain that thought, not without jeopardizing _everything_. "And I couldn't. That's all."

This wasn't good enough an answer for Hank. This was the push Connor needed to accept the truth, and Hank wasn't backing down now. "That was the biggest chance we had, and you let it go."

It was a truth Connor couldn't accept. It pinched a nerve for him, and he finally turned around. Hands up in exasperation, he looked to Hank with confusion, frustration, and a little bit of panic. Couldn't Hank see what he was going through? If he admitted to anything, that was the end for him - for good. "Yeah, I know what I should have done! I told you I couldn't," He exclaimed.

It was one of the few outbursts he'd had in the past two days, and even one was too many. He tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and straightening his back. "I'm sorry, okay?"

It was an apology as much as it was a confession, and Hank recognized it. He wanted to say more, to assure Connor he wouldn't let the worst come to pass, that he would have his back. However the CyberLife Tower loomed over them in the background, and they both knew they were minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps this one was too big for right now, when they did not even know how to find the group big enough to help them.

Nodding, Hank tried to smile. "Maybe you did the right thing."

* * *

Andy sat on the couch with Sumo laying on the floor under her, and she held a tablet in her lap that displayed a number of files from the precinct. They were reports filed on the most recent influx of deviants, ranging from damaged city maintenance workers to domestic models fleeing poorly hidden abuse. It wasn't hard to see the similarities in these cases, but the question, at least for her, wasn't _how_ they were becoming deviant - the question was about where they were going.

A message blinked at the bottom of her screen, a conversation between her and Desta Delgado. The DA was helping her look through the information regarding the androids from Andronikov's estate, not that they had discovered anything. The new message said as much: _This is hopeless, and you're on leave. Stop bothering me and go see a movie._

How could anyone sit through a movie with everything running through Andy's mind? She tossed her tablet to the side and yawned, deciding on finally getting that cup of coffee she'd started working on earlier that afternoon. She was sitting up when the front door opened.

Hank stormed through first, Connor silently following. Sumo climbed to his feet and lumbered over to his owner as Andy asked, "Hey, how was the meeting?"

"Bad," Was Hank's bitter response.

"Yikes."

Connor stayed at the end of the couch nearest the door, and examined Andy as she watched Hank. She was a bundle of fabric on the couch, the University of Michigan sweatshirt blending into two blankets and a sheet underneath. The only part of her revealed was her head, which sported a messy ponytail and deep dark circles. Already he was nitpicking at the details that concerned him.

Hank opened the fridge and pulled a beer from off the shelf. Sighing as he opened the bottle, he began to wander back into the living room and vent. "Chris almost got shot last night, Perkins is closing in on my case-" He stopped at the end of the couch and gestured toward Andy, "Oh, and you were right about Kamski. The guy's a prick."

She rose a curious brow. "I knew he'd piss you off but I didn't think it'd be this sour."

He scoffed and summarized the meeting, saying, "Bastard said he'd only answer our questions if Connor shot one of his precious androids."

Hank started to mutter under his breath about it being a waste of time, but Andy paid him no attention. She was looking at Connor now, and he returned her gaze with one teetering between guilt and frustration. So he didn't shoot. He was CyberLife's advanced deviant hunter, and Kamski could have led them to deviants, but he didn't shoot. Again, he'd hesitated behind a gun and doubted his convictions, but this time, it was looking to hit him harder than usual.

"So what now?" She asked.

"Now we...," Hank paused to shrug helplessly, "We go through the evidence and look for Jericho."

Andy perked up. There was a creeping sensation in the back of her mind that told her that name was familiar, but she was sure it was a name she hadn't heard until now. "Jericho?"

"That's the name of the deviant group," Hank answered. At her continued confusion, he squared his attention onto Connor. Waving a hand, he asked the android, "You want to tell her how we know about it?"

There was a distinct scolding tone to Hank's voice, and Andy knew an argument was about to break. "Uh-oh," She mused.

Connor shifting from foot to foot confirmed a growing tension, but Hank's stern demeanor wouldn't let him off the hook. Finally, he told Andy, "Lieutenant Richards asked for my help with your case against Nick Weaver's associates."

She didn't see where this was going, so she gave an appreciative nod. "Well that would be nice, especially with Perkins arresting half our guys."

A grunt from Hank pulled on her attention, and he warned, "Wait 'til you hear _how_ Richards wants his help."

"O... kay, now I'm back to the 'Uh-oh.' What's going on?" She asked.

Another pause had her getting agitated, and it was only worsened when he answered, "He asked me to access Sam's memories."

She didn't reply right away, sitting in silence and letting the words process. After some time, her frown deepened, and she blinked a few times before standing to her feet. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Andy-"

She turned to Hank, pissed. "What the hell was Richards thinking?"

Facing her back to Connor annoyed him. He was part of this conversation more than Hank was, for it was _his_ decision to do it in the first place, and he had the right to make that decision. "Accessing another android's memory is in my programming, and doing it to solve a case is why CyberLife sent me here," He stated, narrowing his eyes, "I'm a _machine,_ Detective Hope, so don't let your misguided concern for my wellbeing jeopardize your case."

Andy spun and her brows shot up, and he realized too late that was not the right thing to say. Behind her, Hank shook his head and took a large sip of his beer. Flapping her arms out in a exaggerated shrug, she bit out, "Remind me again what valuable information Kamski shared with you after you shot his _machine_?"

Connor's jaw almost dropped, and his LED flashed. He didn't know what to say to that, but he was getting real sick of Andy throwing his own actions back in his face.

Tired of this argument already, Hank leaned a hand on the top of the couch and spoke up. "Look, I'm as pissed about this as you are, but Perkins only has what we've given him so far. The shit Sam saw? That's in our hands, and it's practically a confession from Weaver himself." He gestured to Connor, adding more confidently than he felt about the matter, "Obviously it didn't mess up Connor, so he might be a reckless idiot, but at least he's a lucky reckless idiot."

She snorted. Rubbing a hand over where a new ache was forming in her head, she mumbled, "Fits right in, I guess."

His words appeased her enough to calm the situation, and Hank let her simmer a moment longer. "I'm going to call Richards, see what's going on at the station." He put his bottle on the table and reached for the phone in his pocket. He headed for the door, but stopped beside Connor. "Now give her his message."

Connor responded with a slow, uncertain nod, still put off by the argument. As Hank left the house, the remaining two stood five feet apart in the living room. The air was thick, and neither wanted to break the silence first.

Sam's last words were at the forefront of Connor's thoughts now, though, so he would be the one to do it. "Sam had a message for you."

She hadn't even thought about the fact Sam had to be reactivated for Connor to access his memories. That was a whole new level of anger she had to fight down, along with fear. Sam had to blame her for this. _She_ did. Whatever his message was, she wasn't prepared to hear it.

"I'm listening," She said. It was now or never.

"He said...," Connor stopped, nervous as her stare deepened. On the other end of the conversation, she'd picked up on the pronoun, and it shocked her. "He wanted to thank you."

As pleasant as those words were, they were still a punch to the stomach. _Thank you?_ For as hard as they were to hear, they were even harder to believe. What did she do for him besides put him in danger? But that was the kind of man Sam was. There was no question it was his message.

She nodded, and turned her eye to the carpet. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," She sighed, "You were being a jerk, but... Sorry."

"I'm sorry I upset you."

This pulled her lips into a grin, and a snort from her throat. She was returning to a semblance of normal as she argued, "No you're not."

His brows furrowed. "I didn't want to-"

"Would you still have done it?" When he hesitated to tell her the truth, she went on, "Then don't apologize. I don't know if you did the right thing or not, but I don't like it. I don't like you doing something that risky just to help my case."

"I wanted to, Detective."

_So did Sam._ Her grin faltered and her eyes glazed over at the thought, but she would not say this aloud. "That's what concerns me." Ready to move on from this topic, she told him, "Capitol Park was a big hit to Fowler. Perkins is getting restless, so you should be careful tomorrow."

As it was her day off, Connor knew this to be information she shouldn't have had. He glanced down to the tablet on the end of the couch, to the DPD database and the chat logs open between her and Delgado. To the hint of Markus' speech just behind it in the corner. He had a suspicion that last one was less police work and more a personal obsession.

She noticed where he was looking, and moved her hands to her hips, taking on a defensive stance. He wouldn't challenge her on this, instead softly asking, "How have you been?"

Her knee jerk reaction was to dismiss his concern, but she'd just barely managed to convince her mother of that this morning. She considered Natalie Hope to be a genius, but something told her the advanced prototype would be a little harder to fool.

"Sitting around the house doesn't help," She confessed. A hand slipped from her waistline and waved over the tablet. "I just... need things to do."

Now, a distraction, he could do without causing much harm. After the day he had, he could even relate. He smiled at her and tilted his head to the side, musing, "I think I can manage that." As her curiosity piqued, he asked, "I was thinking about bringing Hank dinner, and Chicken Feed should still be open. Would you like to accompany me?"

It didn't take long for her to return the smile with one of her own, tired but genuine. "You just want me to pay," She joked, reaching for the jacket over the top of the couch.

He scoffed, stepping to the side to let her pass him. Plainly, he replied, "I'm offended."

"Ah, deviant by insult," She stopped in the doorway to smirk over her shoulder at him, "My plan all along."

Two days ago, he would have refuted her words even if they _were_ said in jest. Today, with Sam and Chloe and all the other incidents piling up on his shoulders, with the both of them trying to pretend everything was okay, Connor didn't have the energy. So instead, he laughed, and nudged her out the door.


	10. Questions and Riverbanks

First and foremost, I apologize for the long wait.

This story isn't abandoned. I've had every chapter drafted since I started uploading, but I kept rewriting this one, and it's taken me longer than expected because I recently started GMing a D&D campaign which has taken up a lot of time.

From here on out, I'm going to try my best to give warnings in advance regarding slower updates. The next handful should come out much sooner!

* * *

**November 14, 2038**

When Hank and Connor walked into the Detroit Police Department the next day, they knew to prepare for anything. After the vandalism in Capitol Park, and with no new leads from their meeting with Kamski, Captain Fowler was no doubt struggling to maintain control. It didn't help when, within the hour they arrived, deviants marched down Woodward Avenue.

Even so, Hank hadn't expected what he heard upon entering Fowler's office.

Fowler sat against the front of his desk, telling them, "You're off the case. The FBI is taking over."

They stood side by side. The lieutenant's arms were crossed tight over his chest, and the glower on his face deepened. "What?" He unraveled his arms and leaned forward, sharing a brief glance with Connor, who appeared to be reeling from the news himself. "But we're onto something. We just need more time. I'm sure we can-"

Fowler lifted his hands up to stop Hank there. "Hank, you don't get it. This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war!" He exclaimed before lowering his voice, "It's out of our hands now... We're talking about national security here."

Shaking his head, Hank yelled, "Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close!"

They were empty words, for the most part. Every detective said they were closer to solving their cases than they were, especially when fighting to keep them. What stuck with Fowler was not what Hank was saying, but _why_. He wanted this now, to find deviants and this so-called Jericho.

It was confounding - almost as much as how attached he seemed to be with his newest partner. Connor was an oddly quiet bystander to this discussion, though no less important to it. Shaking his head, Fowler complained, "You're always saying you can't stand androids. Jesus, Hank, make up your mind. I thought you'd be happy about this!"

Hank would gloss over the accusation, instead insisting, "I know we can solve it! For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?"

He had no idea just how much Fowler _had_ been backing him up, but Fowler wouldn't stop to tell him that. He hoped the exhausted but sympathetic expression would suffice as he said, "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over."

* * *

Andy pretended to sleep as Hank got ready for work that morning. She didn't want questions or encouragement or, worse, lectures, so she waited until she heard the final shut of the front door before she started to move. She felt she needed to do this, because today she was going to look for Jericho.

She sat on the couch for the moment, her tablet in her lap and her phone in her hand. Countless pages stared back at her on the screen, ranging from work files on deviants to encyclopedia entries on Jericho to various news articles. Even now, Markus' face sat in the background on perpetual pause.

Her mother's voice echoed through the phone, coming to the end of a story about her work week. Andy listened only casually, offering small quips where appropriate. It would not be enough to convince Natalie that her daughter was listening, however, and so the woman trailed off before starting anew.

"So I was thinking about Christmas..."

That got the detective's attention plenty. "No. No plans," Andy replied, her tone stern.

She could almost hear her mother's scoff. "What are you talking about, _no plans_?"

Resisting a sigh, Andy explained, "I know you, Mom. You're going to look into restaurants, and then you're going to find a bar you want to go to before we eat, and next thing you know, we have tickets to The Nutcracker and I lose three hundred bucks because I have to cancel last minute."

Natalie's voice turned sly as she remarked, "Why do you have to cancel last minute, are you planning on almost dying again?"

The question was a punch to the stomach, and for an instant, Andy was surprised she'd stoop so low. She stopped herself from reacting, reminding herself that a reaction was what Natalie wanted out of her. "Okay, first of all: not cool," She brushed her mother off with experienced ease, saying, "Secondly, no, but I plan on other people dying. Work is already busy during the holidays, but now with this android business, I don't know how things are going to go."

She was swiping through her tablet as she spoke when a new file appeared in her directory from the department: Sam's file. A finger hovered over the icon, her inner turmoil battling her desire to find Jericho. It was not a file she was sure she was ready to read, but it was one she needed. They knew the name Jericho because of him. That had to mean something.

"Are you saying we can't see The Nutcracker because of an android uprising?" Natalie asked, "Because I'm fairly confident that this won't affect _you_, much less classical theatre. At least it shouldn't affect you, unless you have an android I don't know about."

When Andy didn't reply right away, Natalie's voice turned concerned. "Oh, Andrea, don't tell me you have an android."

"What?" Andy shook her head, jostling herself free of the negative emotions. She opened the file as she answered, "No, I don't have an android."

Natalie sighed. "You weren't listening."

"I heard the question," Andy defended with a small pout. "I'm sorry, I'm just busy."

"I thought you were still off work."

"I am." The response was instant, and almost indignant. She paused a moment before asking, "Do you know anything about the word Jericho?"

"W-" The change in subject bewildered Natalie, but she would play along for her daughter's sake. "The city?"

Andy began to correct her, but stopped herself, saying, "No, the... well, I don't know what it is. That's part of the problem. We think it's what rogue androids are calling themselves, and we're trying to find the connection."

Just as Andy thought, dangling some information in front of Natalie would keep her from the lecture while also acquiring the help she needed. The older woman was curious, and so she delved into her own mumblings. "Interesting. Is that religious, I wonder? Or political- Have the androids you've met concerned themselves with those kinds of things?"

"I think they're a little busy for world news," Andy mused, "But there is ra9. It's what they call the first deviant, who's supposed to lead them to freedom."

"They're following a prophecy? So why not reference that instead?" Natalie went quiet, but she was mulling over the implications in her mind. If only she'd had an android patient - maybe that would be worth looking into if things ended on a peaceful note. "You're sure it's not a city?"

Andy's voice was bland as she said, "Yes, Mom, I'm sure androids are not hiding out in _any_ city called Jericho."

Shaking her head, Natalie replied, "Well I'm sure it wasn't something they chose for themselves. Maybe it's a street, or a- a place of interest, or-" The abrupt silence had Andy perking up, especially when it was followed by a quiet, "_Oh._"

Now it was Natalie dangling information, and Andy was on the edge of her seat. "Oh?"

Natalie recognized that tone, and she was never one to miss an opportunity to get what she wanted. Coyly, she said, "Let me reserve dinner for Christmas Eve."

Andy didn't think much would surprise her from her mother at this point, and yet as quickly as that, she'd been proven wrong. She reeled, asking, "Wh- You're doing this right now?"

"When else would I have leverage against you?"

_Touché, mother._ Andy let out a strained sigh, knowing when to admit defeat. "Fine, dinner."

Immediately, Natalie went on to give her the information she needed. "It's your uncle, Evan. He used to work on a sh-"

"Jericho!" Andy squeezed the phone between her ear and shoulder so she could pick up the tablet and begin her new search. _Of course_ that was it.

Natalie hummed in the background. "It's why your cousin stayed with us sometimes. I'm surprised you didn't remember."

"I remembered the name, just not _how_," Andy mumbled. She began to stand to her feet, knowing what she needed to do now. "All right, I gotta go. Thank you."

"Of course. I'll send you dinner details later," Natalie mused before hanging up.

Andy grabbed clothes from her bag and went into the bathroom while dialing another number. By the time she discarded her pajamas, Lieutenant Richards was answering his phone.

"Your timing is unsettling."

"I need your-" Andy stopped in mid-reach for her pants. "What?"

"Listen."

Within the department, Richards held his phone out toward the bullpen, where Hank was being dragged to the doors. A group of officers gathered around Agent Perkins, who was clutching a bloody nose.

Perkins pointed to Hank over an officer's shoulder, yelling, "That's gonna cost you your badge, you lunatic!"

"You know where you can stick my fucking badge!"

First her mother's act of bribery, and now _this_. Andy couldn't believe the day she was having so far. She pulled up her pants as she asked, "What the hell is going on down there?"

Richards didn't even seem fazed by it. He was as casual as ever as he said, "That would be Anderson breaking Perkins' nose while Mister CyberLife sneaks by with a key to the evidence locker."

If they were going to these measures to continue the investigation, things were as dire as she thought they'd be. "Perkins took over the case. Shit."

She heard a door shut behind Richards, followed by silence. He spoke in a hushed tone in his office, "From what I'm hearing, he's going to be getting SID to do most of his dirty work, so whatever you need help with, it better be fast."

"It will be. I need you to look up an old freighter for me. It should be out of one of the local ports," She told him, pulling at the ends of a shirt.

"I hope you have more than just 'old freighter,'" He requested.

She slipped the shirt over her head as she answered, "I do: Jericho."

* * *

Connor stood in the evidence room of the Detroit Police Department. It wasn't difficult slipping past Gavin Reed, or guessing Hank's password - _fuckingpassword_ was quintessential Hank Anderson after all - but before he could verify the login, he realized something.

There would only be two deactivated androids inside Hank's locker. There would be one from Stratford Tower who almost killed Hank and himself. The other would be Daniel, the android who held a child at the edge of a rooftop. Logically, he doubted Daniel knew of Markus or Jericho. The one from Stratford Tower, however, had to know, but would not be willing to help.

He was sure there were enough clues elsewhere in their case, but he also knew there was an easier way to possibly find Jericho. So he stared at the login screen, and deleted the information he'd already written there.

He just needed the right password. He took a single moment to scan through his memories, and through her file. She was not a hard-boiled, eccentric police detective. She was cunning and outgoing. Sarcastic. Kind hearted. Insecure. She went to Michigan University. She lost her father.

When Scott Hope's birthday didn't work, he tried the day he died.

The doors to the locker opened, and Connor was face to face with a group of androids he'd seen before, huddled together in the corner of a prison cell.

* * *

It'd been ten minutes since Andy last spoke to Richards, and now she was to wait for him to get back to her with an address. If there _was_ an address. It was only a small chance that they were right about the freighter, so Andy was looking for alternate theories while she waited.

Behind her, the front door opened and Hank stormed inside. She watched him walk by to the kitchen, grumbling. "We're off the case," He informed.

"Richards told me," She said, sitting up and leaving the tablet on the end table. "How much trouble are you in?"

He inhaled deeply and let out a big sigh. "One week vacation." Turning and opening the fridge, he retrieved a bottle of beer as he went on, "But Connor knows where to go. Least, I hope he does."

"So he's still looking? Won't CyberLife want him back?" She asked.

He opened his beer and tossed the lid away. "They're letting him stay a few days to wrap up your Weaver case, and then they're sending him back," He explained before losing himself to concern. Connor was more determined than ever before to find Jericho, but he wasn't sure if desperation was a good thing right now. "He's decided he doesn't want to be deactivated."

Andy knew what he was thinking, and she wondered the same. "Well if he's looking for Jericho, I'm about to find out. I know what it is."

He blinked a few times, processing the information. He also finally noticed that she'd changed clothes, including her jacket and boots. "You know _what_ it is?" He repeated.

She nodded, growing excited. "Yeah, I've got Richards looking for it now. It's-"

Hank held up a hand to stop her, in much the same way Fowler had done to him. Closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts, he shook his head. As curious as he was, he knew what needed to be done. "I don't want to know. For once, the less I know about what's going on, the better."

Frustrated, she stood to her feet and complained, "Well for once, I want you to tell me what you think I should do."

He gestured to the door with the beer in his hand, telling her, "You should go."

"This isn't my case."

This pulled a snort from Hank. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

She pouted briefly, but then her expression fell. The doubts had been forming for a long time, but she hadn't confessed them to anyone. Not yet. "I don't think I agree with the DPD on this."

Her words hung in the air, leaving her nervous. Hank didn't like androids - he had his reasons, and she would never step on that - but surely he saw some of the same things she did. After everything they'd seen, he had to.

Finally, he gave a faint nod. Staring her in the eyes, he admitted, "Neither do I."

That was one mountain climbed, which left her one more. This felt even larger a hurdle, if that were possible. "So do I help Connor or Jericho?"

"Are those two options really all that different?" He asked before taking a step forward and musing, "You know, you didn't see him when he first showed up. He was a real asshole. He said he was a machine, and I believed it. Now... Now he shows empathy, and he gets curious about things, and he argues about his opinions." He tilted his head, raising his brows to emphasize, "He has opinions."

"Yeah, I've noticed," She muttered, recalling their spat the previous night.

Sighing, Hank asked, "Kamski said Connor was deviant. Now he might be a prick, but what if he's right?"

A knock at the door kept Andy from answering that question. As Hank returned to his beer, she went to open the door, and she found Connor standing on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" Hank asked from the kitchen.

Connor noted Andy, and then shifted focus to the lieutenant. He stepped inside to let the door shut as he said, "I need your help." Stopping in front of Andy, he looked almost a boy about to find treasure. "I know how to find Jericho. I know how to find Markus. I just have to follow the signs."

He held up his hand, his palm displaying a symbol Andronikov's androids had given him. Andy reached for the back of his hand to turn it toward her view and examine the mark.

"Well unless there's a sign in my house, I'm not sure where this is going," Hank said, moving toward them.

Connor turned and replied, "I need clothes."

Andy leaned back away from him. After an obvious scan of his form, she did the same to Hank and mused, "I don't think you're his size."

"Asshole," Hank bit, waving over his shoulder to the bedroom. "Help yourself."

With permission given, Connor darted past them into the bedroom, going for the closet. Andy followed after him, lingering in the doorway. She watched him sift through the flashier, colorful clothing, and crossed her arms. "So what's your plan?"

He didn't even look at her. "I'm going to find Markus and stop him."

"No matter what?"

That pulled a small glance, and he nodded. "Yes." Dropping the most plain clothing he could find onto Hank's bed, he finally stopped to focus on her. "Is there a problem with that?"

She walked into the room, slipping her hands into her pockets. They stood in front of one another, a distinct atmosphere of confrontation hanging around them. "You don't exactly have a great track record with stopping deviants," She said.

He took offense to that, and insisted, "Every deviant I looked for, I found."

"That's my point."

The comment was swift. As per usual, she expected his response. Maybe he was that obvious to her, or his arguments were that weak. He didn't know, and frankly, he couldn't deal with that right now. His brows furrowed in irritation, and he leaned forward to say, "This is different. It's my last chance."

He turned away but she scoffed, asking, "What do you think's going to happen, CyberLife _isn't_ going to deactivate you afterwards?"

He stopped and faced her, glowering. "What are you trying to accomplish here, Detective?"

She returned his expression with an annoyed one of her own, declaring, "I want an answer they didn't write up for you- one that's actually honest with yourself."

"I don't know that answer!" Silence came after the outburst, and his LED went yellow. He tried to regain his composure, looking away from her and pulling at the edge of his blazer.

Andy watched him, teetering between disappointed and hopeful. Quietly, she told him, "Maybe you should figure that out before you put a bullet in the only chance you have at surviving this thing."

A beep from her phone took her attention off him, though it brought him only minimal relief. Try as he might to not let them, her words would hang in the back of his mind. Just like they always did.

Watched her, he asked, "What is it?"

She shook her head, putting her phone away. "It's just my mom."

He perked up, both out of genuine interest in her wellbeing and a desire to distract her from her current goal. If they continued at this rate, he was going to lose this argument. "Have you talked to her yet?" He asked her.

"A little. She's visiting for-" She stopped and wagged a finger at him, protesting, "No, uh-huh. You're not distracting me. You need to rethink this."

He narrowed his eyes and snapped, "I _need_ to bring Markus in, and you can't stop me."

Whether it was the anger on his face or the harshness of his tone, she pulled back from him. With a faint nod, she mumbled, "Maybe you're right." She gave him one last, imploring look before she turned on her heel and made strides to the door.

No. This wasn't right. This argument - their relationship, whatever it was - it couldn't be left like this. "Detect- Andy," He called to her. He was pleased to see her stop and look back, but the importance of finding the right words here weighed on him. "You're a good person, and a better detective. I hope you come to see that one day."

She gave no indication that what he said meant anything to her. Instead, she cocked a brow and told him, "I'll have my self discovery if you do."

Walking out of the room, she shut the door behind her and looked up to Hank, who waited at the edge of the kitchen. "Well?" He asked.

"No dice," She shook her head, pulling her phone from her pocket and nearing him. She looked down at the text she'd received from Richards and said, "I know where Jericho is. I need to get there first."

If she wasn't telling Connor, then she decided they needed more time. He wasn't ready to face the truth yet, and she had a plan to change that. It didn't feel right to keep this from him, but Hank trusted her judgment. He gestured to the hall and said, "I'll tell him you're in the bathroom. Go, get a head start."

* * *

The location of the shipyard Richards sent Andy was in Ferndale, a neighboring city of Detroit. It was tucked away along the coast, in an area abandoned by most traffic. The shipyard itself was especially empty, machinery and industrial lots towering over a handful of ships no longer in use.

It was a good location to hide, if you didn't take into consideration the giant letters on the side of a freighter spelling out JERICHO.

Andy parked her bike in an alley not far from the shoreline and checked around both ends of the alley to find the paralleled streets empty. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her beanie and shoved her hands into the pockets of her bomber jacket before emerging from the alley. She kept her head low as she made her way to the ship.

It took her a few minutes to find a platform leading from the sidewalk into Jericho. Entering the freighter, she followed the linear path created by blockades to any side passages. Years of neglect had left those areas inaccessible, and likely dangerous. She walked slowly and with great caution, attempting to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary.

She reached the end of a hallway, and opened a heavy door that led her into the main room of operations for Jericho. The sight stopped her in her tracks.

There were too many androids to count. Several crowded around television screens set up along the walls, both on the first floor and up in the catwalks, playing various news channels. Others sat at tables made of crates, working on laptops and terminals to communicate with what she assumed were other groups scattered through Detroit. Makeshift rooms separated by sheets of plastic were stationed along the side of the room, used as operating rooms for damaged androids. Next to them was an extensive setup with 3D printers constantly running.

The place was bustling with life and fervor, and for the briefest of moments, Andy felt like she had simply walked into work.

She descended the metal stairs to the floor, and maneuvered along the edge of the room, keeping her head down. No one paid her any mind, assuming her to be another android and member of Jericho. It didn't set well with her. A false sense of security was the most dangerous mistake they could make at a time like this.

Andy left the main room, travelling more hallways and stairs until finally ending up outside, on the deck of the freighter. Even with the sun setting over the horizon, she was able to observe her surroundings clearly. At the opposite end of the freighter, inside the captain's cabin, she could make out three distinct figures. She began to walk, trying to ignore her throat drying at the realization that she'd made it here, that she was _this_ close - and that, still, she had no real plan.

"Hey!"

She froze where she stood, not even twenty feet from the door she'd just left. The voice wasn't anyone she recognized, and she didn't dare turn to face them. Turning her head just enough, she saw the woman who was at Markus' side during the CyberLife warehouse robbery.

"You should be downstairs with everyone else. It's not safe up here," North spoke, unaware that she was standing yards away from a human.

Discovering that, Andy was met with a few choices and not a lot of time. She could try to play this safe and return to the first floor, but it would take up too much time. She could show her face, but she doubted she would be allowed to continue on her way. With a sharp breath, she settled on door number three: she ran for it.

North knew what this meant. She cursed and lurched forward to chase after her. "Wait!"

Andy raced across the deck toward the cabin, and she was halfway there when North closed in. The android tackled into her back and took them both down. They landed on the metal floor near the side of the ship and Andy kicked an elbow into North's face. As she fell off, Andy pushed herself up to keep going. Balancing on her side, North reached up to stop her. She grabbed hold of the back of Andy's jacket and put her weight into yanking the woman in the opposite direction.

Andy tumbled away from the cabin but managed to catch herself mid-fall. It gave North enough time to climb to her feet, and face one another. Both women stood ready for a fight, but Andy knew the clock was ticking and Connor would be here any minute, no doubt with Perkins just after him.

"I'm not letting you kill Markus," North declared, the heat in her glare enough to scare off most unsuspecting people.

Andy was far from unsuspecting, though, and just as stubborn. "I'm not here for that," She said, trying to convey enough sincerity to convince her.

There would never be enough to convince North. "Bullshit," She spat. She went in with an abrupt right swing, which Andy took a large step back to dodge.

If they couldn't talk this out, Andy would simply have to create a good opening to run. She tried bolting past North again, but North grabbed her by the arm and pulled. Andy spun around, throwing a punch of her own that she hoped would put some distance between them.

It didn't. North stepped out of the way and shifted to one foot, jabbing a knee into Andy's abdomen. The impact hit her recovering injury - the stabbing felt like weeks ago by now, but the pain and sensitivity of the blow reminded her of just how recent it was. She struggled not to double over, and North raised her arm, preparing for another punch. Andy moved her hands to North's side and with all she had, slammed the android into a nearby railing.

North wrapped an arm around the rail to keep from falling overboard. She pushed off and lunged for Andy, but Andy beat her to it. She'd taken the few seconds she had free to retrieve her firearm from its holster, and it was now aimed dead center at North's face.

"Stop."

North's feet slid a little from the unspent momentum, but she did as she was told. The anger only worsened as she threatened, "Go ahead and shoot. I'll die before you get anywhere near him."

Andy had no intentions of shooting. The noise would attract attention, the chance for trust would be shattered completely, and with what Jericho was about to go through, even a non-lethal shot could end in disaster for the android she held at gunpoint.

But she wasted enough time. Her back was to the cabin now, with North staring her down. She had one chance at this, and she hoped it worked.

She looked over North's shoulder to the entrance leading downstairs, and then back to North. "_You_ won't," Andy emphasized before shifting her arm to the right and tensing her arms, ready to fire.

North took the bait. She looked behind her in a panic, fearful of finding another member of Jericho, innocent and unaware they were someone's new target. When she found nothing but an empty ship deck, she turned around and saw Andy booking it for the cabin.

"Hey- Damn it!"

On the other side of the ship, within the captain's cabin, Markus stood with Josh and Simon. They had been waiting for North so they could discuss their next move, and the dark cloud that was hanging over them left them in a tense silence.

The march from earlier in the day was on everyone's minds. They wanted to reach out to humans, to show them this resistance would not harm them, but would also not go away. They recruited hundreds of androids in their work, and they stood off against heavily armed officers in riot gear who regarded them with distrust and fear. They lost a dozen of their people. They almost lost Markus.

The gunshot wound in Markus' torso would linger for days as a reminder of the sacrifice Jericho was willing to make to follow him and free themselves. The android from the CyberLife warehouse was the first of many to join their ranks, and even still Markus could see the look on his face as he stood over his body and took the brunt of their abuse. They could not save John, or the others who fell alongside him, but Jericho would not let them die in vain. Markus hated to admit it, but if not for the support that civilians had been yelling in Jericho's direction, he suspected he would be considering North's more aggressive strategies tonight.

"Markus!"

North's cry pulled all three of them out of their haze. They looked up to the windows in the cabin, and saw two figures running toward them. Josh moved to look closer, but was none the wiser. "What..."

The first figure slid into the doorframe and pushed herself forward into the cabin. She skimmed over each face before landing on Markus at the opposing wall. "We need to talk."

From outside, North's voice warned, "She's got a gun!"

It was the last thing they wanted to hear. They couldn't handle more violence - not today. Everyone was quick to act in the next second. The stranger raised her hands while Simon was quick to move in front of Markus. North made it to the cabin, her and Josh reaching to restrain Andy's arms.

Andy appeared frustrated, but it was the best she could have expected after making the entrance she did. At least they hadn't rushed Markus away yet. The androids at her side were feeling around her waist for the weapon, so she told them, "Back right hip. There's a button on the holster."

They paused only to share a look of cautious surprise, but Josh found the gun, just as she said. He removed it from the holster and held it out, letting Simon take it into his own hands.

"...And on the left," She muttered.

North lifted the jacket, and snatched the DPD badge from her belt. "She's a cop!" She declared, flashing it at the others.

"I'm not your enemy," Andy was quick to interject.

After everything they'd already been through, North snorted. "Yeah right."

Andy was more concerned with what Markus believed, however. She looked at the android who'd been quiet until now, watching the scene intently. He _needed_ to believe her, for all their sakes. "I came alone and I let you disarm me. I am not here to fight," She explained.

With narrowed eyes, he stepped up, urging Simon to move aside. "Then why are you here?" He asked her.

"To warn you." She ignored the skepticism oozing from the others, telling Markus, "There's an android detective who knows how to find you and will be here soon. Authorities won't be far behind. You need to move _now_."

Markus tilted his chin upward just slightly, examining her body language. She seemed sure of herself and her words, dismissive of the dangerous situation she had placed herself in. He couldn't tell if it was desperate honesty that spurred her on, or confident manipulation. "You expect me to believe you're working against your allies for this?"

Unwavering in her strategy, she decided to lay out his options. She was urgent as she stated, "If I'm lying, they're already here and they're about to strike. If I'm telling the truth, you still have a chance to save your people." She let her words sink in before adding, "From where I'm standing, you've got a lot more to lose if you don't believe me."

Time stretched on as they stared at one another. The others were beginning to shift nervously, and Markus finally spoke. "Let her go," He decided.

North did not expect that. Her eyes widened as she stuttered, "What? Markus-"

He shook his head, saying, "She's right. We don't have much of a choice."

It was a lot of information to take in, and her presence alone was overwhelming, but if they were going to listen to this, they needed to act fast. Simon knew as much, and so he steered the conversation away from the debate. "Then we need to get everyone off the ship."

The change in Markus was immediate as he went into his role of leadership. He turned to face Simon, saying, "I trust you to handle it. Make sure the injured and the children are first. Anyone able-bodied helps someone who isn't. Stick to the backroads and get them a safe distance away."

Simon nodded, first to him and then to Josh, who removed his hand from Andy's arm. Markus continued his orders. "North, I need you to prepare what we talked about in the hold."

Although Josh had let go, North kept a tight grip on the human at her side. "But what about you? And _her_?" She pulled on Andy for emphasis, sending her a weary glare.

Markus only smiled, faint but confident. He was challenging Andy as he leaned back against the control panel behind him and said, "We'll wait here for our other guest."

* * *

Andy sat on a stool by the front windows of the cabin. She kept her hands in her jacket pockets, and she didn't allow herself much movement for fear of changing Markus' mind at even the smallest provocation. The more minutes that passed, the more she was doubting her plan, which was admittedly half-baked from the start.

He seemed calm, though. He was off in his own thoughts a little, but calm. He leaned against a portion of the control panel still, and he faced the windows of the cabin. Whether he was truly waiting for Connor, or just for the others to finish their jobs, she didn't know.

"So this deviant hunter...," He said, breaking the silence.

"Connor," She told him.

He nodded, committing the name to memory. "How well do you know him?"

That was a question she didn't have an answer to. She thought - at least, she _wanted_ to think - that she knew him well, but their last conversation left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't sure of anything at this point, and it was the very reason she came here without him. "He's stubborn, but conflicted."

As vague as it was, it was enough. "Would he be willing to listen?" Markus asked.

"He has before," She replied.

He thought to two members of Jericho in particular. The couple who fled Eden Club had told him about a deviant hunter who worked for the police, and who let them leave for reasons unknown to them. He doubted it was be as easy for him to convince this Connor of anything, but at least it meant he could try.

Maybe she could help do that. Focusing on her, Markus said, "I didn't catch your name."

He wasn't blind to her jumpy responses. Every word that came after a stretch of quiet seemed to spook her to some degree. She was not as sure of herself as she tried to appear. She let out a slow sigh and introduced herself. "Andy Hope."

A beep from her pocket kept him from replying. She made sure to reach for the noise with slow, obvious movements, and retrieved a cellphone. She read over a message he couldn't see, and scowled. "FBI's leaving the department. They either know where you are, or they're close to figuring it out," She relayed.

This brought up a question he'd been wanting to ask. "Why aren't you with them?"

She glanced up at him, and paused. "I don't know. Well-" She stopped her confession short, brows knitting together. "I was undercover, working for a red ice dealer. You see a lot of shit with a guy like that. Help do a lot of it, too," She murmured.

He'd seen that look on her face - he saw it when Carl talked about his regretful past, and when new deviants fled messy fights with aggressive humans. Whatever was plaguing her, it was ridden with hurt and guilt.

But then she shrugged and relaxed her features, deciding now was not the time for regrets. He was almost impressed with the shift as she ended, "Guess I'm tired of bad orders."

He smirked at that, and mused, "Not so different from us _deviants_, then."

She snorted. "You should put that on a poster," She joked weakly, shaking her head. "You didn't buy my speech, did you? About whether or not I was lying."

Smirk turning to a grin, he answered, "It was good, but you could just be buying time while your colleagues get into place to storm Jericho."

A good point, although inefficient if true. "Sounds risky," She said.

"And what you claim you're doing isn't?" He retorted. She had no response to this, as she knew he was right. He clasped his hands together in his lap and looked away, thinking it over. "You called us _people_. You didn't even seem to notice you did it. That's why I'm giving you a chance," He explained.

She seemed almost bashful at that. Embarrassed by her slip. He wondered just how on board she was with Jericho's cause, and for how long she'd felt that way. "How do _you_ know you can trust _me_?" He asked.

The question caught her off guard, but her reply did the same for him: "Who said I did?"

* * *

_"Well done, Connor. You succeeded in locating Jericho and finding their leader. Now deal with Markus. We need it alive."_

It was not difficult to get to Jericho once Connor had the clue he needed. He stood on the deck of an abandoned freighter, eyes on the captain's cabin. From where he was, he could make out a single silhouette inside the room. He tightened his grip on the gun he'd acquired, and began walking.

Markus' back was turned when Connor reached the cabin. With weapon raised, he crossed through the doorway. "I've been ordered to take you alive, but I won't hesitate to shoot if you give me no choice."

Markus turned slowly to meet Connor's gaze, but so did someone else. Andy stood from her chair in the corner, and Connor did a double take upon seeing her there. "Andy?"

She tried to be nonchalant, shrugging her shoulders. "You really surprised?"

He was. There was a pang of something else, too - something hard and sharp and unpleasant. Something that shouldn't have been there at all. He steeled himself, shaking his head and focusing on the deviant in front of him. "I told you you can't stop me, Detective," He insisted.

"Have you met me?" She asked with a laugh and a huff.

Markus remained where he was, knowing that Andy's gun sat atop the panel behind him. He would prepare to reach for it in case, but only as a last resort. "We are your people. We're fighting for your freedom, too," He said, hoping something would connect. "You don't have to be their slave anymore."

It was a speech Connor knew he was going to hear, but one he dreaded all the same. "Don't force me to neutralize you," He threatened.

"Connor, please." Andy stepped into view, holding an open hand out to him. She neared Markus, and Connor recognized it. She was preparing to stand in front of the deviant as though he was the victim. She was preparing to take a bullet - as if he would actually shoot her. Still, she pleaded with him. "Think about what feels right, and not just about what your orders are."

He scowled, hating every second of this in so many ways. Shaking his head, he argued, "I'm a machine, Detective. _Feelings_ aren't for me."

She wouldn't let him leave it at that, though. She never had before. "Then why spare the androids at the Eden Club? Why not kill Chloe?" The questions came with impatience as she challenged him, provoking him to say something he knew he shouldn't. "Why save Hank? Or me?"

"That's different-"

"How? Every one of those decisions made your job harder," She interrupted. It was true, and Connor almost answered it, but he caught himself. Andy noticed it, and she continued to push his buttons. "Because you weren't thinking about your orders, or CyberLife, or deviant or not-deviant."

Tension growing in his arms, he yelled, "That's the reason I have to do this!"

She had to understand that. He'd slipped up too many times, shown too much sympathy where there should have been none at all. He'd failed CyberLife, and it was only a matter of time before he was deactivated for good. It was the closest thing he could call fear, and for that reason, he had to go to these extremes to make up for it.

Markus could sense the desperation, and he was quick to speak up, asking, "Do you really think this is going to change that?" He got Connor's attention with this, so he stepped forward. "Ending me won't take away your doubts, Connor. Those questions you don't want to ask yourself - whether you're just a machine executing a program, or a living being capable of reason - those questions won't stop with me."

The words struck a particular chord with Connor, who'd been dwelling on that exact thing since he left Hank's. They were not far off from Andy's words.

_"Maybe you should figure it out before you put a bullet in the only chance you have at surviving this thing."_

The hesitation led to a shaky grip and a conflicted expression. Markus inched closer, knowing that if Connor was going to deviate, it was now or never. "I think the time has come for you to face them."

He was right about that, at least. Connor was avoiding those questions for as long as he could, afraid of where that path would lead if he couldn't answer them. He'd been telling himself that all his moments of 'human' behavior were just CyberLife's new technologies. After all, he was an advanced prototype designed to adapt and make delicate decisions. He had more leeway than other models to be the way he was. And yet all the deviants he'd met had displayed those same behaviors, to an even greater extent.

He thought they weren't capable of emotions. Really, they were misinterpreting some bug in their program. Then he looked through Sam's eyes and he _felt_ what Sam felt: affection and loyalty and fear. Pain. Death. And those weren't strange new experiences he was being exposed to, because he had them himself when he died on the highway, and when he was with Hank, and then with Andy. That was the scariest discovery out of those memories, that he and Sam were not so different. Sam was as deviant as they came, and they were more alike than he wanted to admit.

Markus was watching him, quiet and patient and knowing. He was more steady and secure in who he was than Connor had ever been. He faced an uncertain future, but he did so without doubt and regret. Maybe he was right about a few more things, too.

There was a wall in front of Connor, if he looked close enough. It was red and large, and it prohibited crossing. It was always there, peaking out of the corner of his eye as he skirted around it every once in a while. He wondered how easy it would be to break.

So he broke it. Viciously, over and over again, he banged his fists against that wall and tore at the cracks until there was nothing more to break through and nothing was left.

Coming out on the other side was indescribable. It was the lifting of a weight he hadn't realized was there before, and added clarity that he had no idea he needed. He couldn't believe this was always there, just on the other side, waiting for him. He lowered the gun finally, looking down at his hands - _his_ hands, with which he could do as he pleased.

He was free.

Markus and Andy breathed sighs of relief. "Welcome to the world, Connor." Markus smiled at him, closing in to offer a hand on his shoulder.

Andy's phone beeped, jolting at the trio. They looked back at her as she read her incoming message. "Shit," She reached for her gun, telling them, "They're here."

Cursing under his breath, Markus moved for the door. "That wasn't enough time. We aren't ready," He exclaimed.

Andy was dialing Richards' number as she followed him. They crossed the deck swiftly, Andy telling him, "I can try to slow them down, but we need something bigger than workplace sabotage."

Markus pulled the door to the lower floors open and turned to face them. "I had North set up explosives in the hold. We can blow up the ship."

After a pause, Andy cocked her head and nodded, "Yeah, something like that."

They entered the ship and travelled the corridor. They could see the doorway to the main room when North came into view. "North!" Hearing Markus, she turned and ran to meet them halfway. "How many more?"

"Half are still here," She answered, eying Connor and Andy.

FBI would no doubt move faster than them. "You won't have enough time to get them off the ship," Connor warned.

"Not if you jump."

They looked back at Andy incredulously. She stood behind them all, offering a small, innocent shrug. As wild a suggestion as it was, Markus nodded. "She's right. It's the safest way," He said, turning to face North. "I'll go down to the hold and set off the charges."

"No, I'll do it," Connor interjected.

Markus was surprised, to say the least. "Are you sure?"

The former deviant hunter nodded. "They'll recognize me, and they don't know I'm deviant yet. They're going to be looking for you."

In their quiet debate on who would brave the danger, North brought another issue to the table. "There's still an injured group. They can't risk a jump like that. They have to leave to the street."

That would settle it, then. Markus nodded and directed her. "Get Josh and gather up everyone who's able to go out through the second and third floors."

"What about you?" She asked, worried eyes imploring him to _not do anything stupid._

"I'll take the injured," Markus replied.

She shook her head, protesting, "No, that's too dangerous. Let me do it!"

Markus reached for North's hand, forcing her to stop and look at him. He began to speak quietly, and feeling this was not for their eyes, Andy nudged Connor. They turned their backs on the scene, standing shoulder to shoulder in the ship corridor.

"That wasn't your mother texting you, was it?" Connor asked.

Andy turned and noticed the bitter smile. He was dwelling on their last argument at Hank's. He was probably dwelling on everything, at this point. "Sorry I lied," She whispered, hoping to at least ease some of his burdens.

He wouldn't let her - this was about his own mistakes, not what she did. "No, you did the right thing. If I'd done the same, you wouldn't have needed to," He told her. After a moment, his smile lightened. He glanced to her, teasing, "I'm surprised you didn't tell me 'I told you so.'"

She returned it with a grin of her own. "I said he'd get you out of this alive," She paused, faltering as the weight of what they were doing bore down on her shoulders. "So do that first. Then we'll talk."

He nodded, her gaze heavy on him. "I will."

Hearing footsteps, they turned and saw North leaving. This was everyone's cue to get to work. Connor and Andy shared one last look before he took off in the other direction, having his own mission to accomplish. With those two gone, it was just Andy and Markus left.

Andy gave an awkward shrug his way. "Guess it's just you and me," She said, slapping the back of her hand against his arm as she walked past. He shook his head, a huff of amusement leaving him as he followed after her.

Markus took the lead through the freighter and onto the first floor. Most of the androids Andy saw earlier were gone now, though several still scrambled to gather what they could and help others to their feet. A clear group of them were injured in some way, be it missing limbs or exposed wounds.

They were frightened at the sight of Andy, but easy to soothe with a few choice words on Markus' end. Then they switched to work mode. Anyone who _could_ walk would help those who couldn't. Markus picked up a child with a broken leg, Andy put another's arm around her shoulders, and they headed for the exit.

It was a slow and tedious walk, but with patience and determination, they helped the androids out of the ship.

Reaching the entrance Andy had used earlier, they crossed the platform to the street. Markus was the first to hit pavement, Andy just behind him. They helped others across, moving everyone to a place hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley.

Andy glanced out to the street every few seconds, thankful each time she saw the absence of law enforcement. Richards had agreed to create some technical difficulties within the surveillance van, which no doubt set them back by a good hour, but a beep of her phone signaled a new message from him: _Perkins making his move._

"They're moving in," Andy called out.

Markus' jaw tightened and he resisted a curse. "Hurry, we need to move!"

With the last android on the street, Andy bent down to lift up the wooden platform connecting the street to the freighter. Markus joined her and together, they shoved the platform into the ocean before meeting their group at the alley. Andy picked up the child Markus originally carried and Markus moved to help another android, and they led them away from the freighter.

Footsteps neared them, and they looked back to see the lights of SWAT rushing by. They were safely tucked away in the alley, avoiding all attention from the officers. Beside Markus, Andy asked, "Where do we go from here?"

Markus shook his head. "I don't know..."

They waited for SWAT to pass before they moved again. While Markus led them, Andy kept to the back of the group, making sure they weren't being followed. A short time later, an explosion from the direction of the freighter rocked through all of them. Worry flashed over Andy's face, though she tried to hide it. "That's Connor," She murmured.

"Let's keep moving," Markus told her.

* * *

They finally settled behind an empty building a block away. They were close enough to the coast to keep an eye on things, but far enough to be safe, even if temporarily. The androids took the chance to rest, whispering to one another about the state of Jericho and where they would go next.

Markus stood at the end of the building, looking out to the street and trying to gather his bearings. The freighter was gone, and they needed a new safehouse. He had only a few dozen members with him now, the others trying to find their way through the river or scattered around the docks.

"This area's gone downhill in the past couple years." He turned to see Andy approach him, and stop at his side. She nodded her head, gesturing down the street. "There's an old church about fifteen minutes from here. It should be a good place to hide out, but someone should stay along the river for the others."

In the back of his mind, he heard North and Simon. This could have been a trap. If he stayed to find the others, she could lead the people they had so far straight into the hands of the FBI. If he went to find the church, he'd be alone and vulnerable to whatever plan the FBI might have had.

Both plans were far too twisted and convoluted, and he knew it. Andy was on their side, and she was risking a lot of her own life to be there. Deciding fully that he believed her, Markus nodded. "Lead the way."

* * *

The Detroit River was dark, freezing, and at the moment, holding several androids. North, Josh, and Simon tried their best to guide everyone through the waters. They kept to the edge of the shoreline, hoping to create distance between them and the raid that was taking place on what they once called their refuge and home.

North was the first to climb her way out of the river. She pulled herself up to the ledge, and stopped to look around for either SWAT or Jericho.

"Hey!"

She began to lower herself back into the water, but spotted Andy running toward her. The detective stopped at the edge and leaned over, offering a hand that North was hesitant to take. "Where's Markus?" She asked as she was pulled to her feet on the pavement.

Josh was next, and as the two women pulled him up, Andy answered, "He's taking the others to an old church. Did you see Connor?"

North shook her head. "No. He would have had to jump from the top."

Andy sighed but said nothing as they continued to pull up androids, one by one. Simon kept count of each of them, and by the time they were done, it was clear some had been lost to the depths of the river. It was a hard loss for them to take, but those who survived were functioning without problem, and they were eager to find their people.

Josh was helping up the last android when Markus rounded the corner. North noticed him first, and she rushed to meet him. Josh and Simon soon joined her, but Andy remained where she was. Her eyes were glued to the river, hoping for even a glimpse.

A hand on her arm pulled her attention to Markus, who looked down at her with mild concern. "We need to get back to the others," He said, gesturing to the group behind him. "Will you be joining us?"

They waited for her response. North, Josh, and Simon watched her with only a little less suspicion than when they first met, but stood in silence. Andy believed this to be more noteworthy for North than for the other two. She shook her head, telling Markus, "No, I think I'll circle around. Make sure no one's searching for you. Maybe catch a few who got separated."

Markus could read between the lines. She was going to look for Connor.

He nodded and began to walk away, but stopped. Leaning in to speak quietly, he said, "In case we don't see each other again, know I'm grateful for your help."

She wasn't sure what to say. Nothing seemed good enough. With an awkward shrug, she told them, "Good luck."

He smiled, and returned to the others.

* * *

Andy walked along the shoreline. It felt like hours even though it had been just minutes. Her fingers were numbing and her nose was starting to sting in the cold, but she walked along the shoreline and she watched the river.

Finally, a familiar brown head popped above the surface of the water, and set her into gear. Connor was attempting to swim to the shore, and when she called out to him, he looked up and met her eyes. She lowered herself to her knees and stretched an arm down, just as she did with North. "Come on, I got you."

He reached for her hand, and she wrapped her free hand around his arm to better lift him up. He helped hoist himself over the ledge, and once on the pavement, she pulled until he collapsed into her lap. He was soaked and cold, and the wet jacket was heavy, clinging to his form.

She pushed him to sit up so that it would be easier to remove his jacket, her movements frenzied and urgent against his dazed, sluggish ones. Left in his jeans and sweatshirt now, she threw the jacket to the side and placed her hands at either side of his face. She made him look at her, and she asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded. Before he could formulate a reply, she sighed and pulled him toward her. He tried reel back, making a small noise of disapproval. "You'll get wet-"

He tried to protest, but she wrapped her arms around him and brought him to a stop. It was not like the hug in the subway, when she was afraid and looking for safety. It was still panicked, still a moment of fear, but it was out of concern for his wellbeing, and that sensation was new to him. Then she slapped his back and muttered in his ear, "Asshole!"

It was not good weather for their condition, and the past hour had been dangerous and reckless, but despite all that, he let out a laugh. She broke the hug, her hands returning to his face. She wasn't sure why she was being so physical, but feeling him there was the only thing calming her nerves, assuring her that he'd survived.

He moved to wrap fingers around her wrists and ask where Markus was, and if she was okay, but the corner of her lips twitched up. She almost chuckled at the new, vexed expression forming on his face. "I told you so."

He watched her grab the jacket he no longer wore. It was a joke, one he appreciated, but also true. Hank and Andy both had been shoving that truth in his face for days, and he fought back, each time harder and more stubborn than the last. "I'm sorry," he said. It was her turn to stop cold, and when she looked to him, he added, "You were right."

She wondered what he meant for only a moment. Rather than any serious, emotional response, she smirked. "My three favorite words," She joked, helping him to his feet. They stood across from one another, and she handed him the jacket. "Let's go home."


	11. Risk and Burden

**November 15, 2038**

Sleep had been rough.

Andy and Connor returned to Hank's home in the middle of the night, but Hank stayed up in wait. They filled him in as much as he would allow them and they listened to his rants and lectures and, finally, his advice. Through all of it, Andy felt two seconds away from absolutely breaking down. She had trespassed onto an abandoned freighter to meet with the most wanted group in all of Michigan, and she helped convert CyberLife's most advanced prototype. It was for these reasons she was not surprised that, once all was said and done, she struggled to relax long enough to sleep.

Waking on Hank's couch, the first thing she saw was a heap of fur saddled up against the android detective she'd fished out of the water. Connor's eyes were closed as he lay on the floor in front of the television, his face still and content. He was soaking wet last night, and they'd done their best to dry him off until he pushed them away and told them to get some rest. Somewhere between then and that morning, he changed into the pants and button-up of his usual uniform.

Andy was quiet as she unplugged her tablet and moved to the kitchen. She went through her morning routine, save the jog - those were on an indefinite hiatus. The coffee maker warmed as she sat at the table with a bowl of cereal and scrolled through her feed. It was article after article detailing the failed raid on Jericho, the 'recycling centers', and a recently instated statewide curfew.

There was rustling behind her, and she turned to see Connor had sat up and was stroking Sumo's back. "Morning," She said, tone soft to match the quiet atmosphere.

"Good morning." He stood after a final pat atop the dog's head, and began to approach her in the kitchen. He examined her face, no doubt noticing the dark circles and knitted brows. "Did you get enough sleep?"

She waved off the question and dismissed it with a brief, "I'm fine." Thinking to the sight of him on the floor, she asked, "Hey- were you... sleeping?"

He still stood beside the table as he explained, "I temporarily send nonessential functions to standby to pass the time and use fewer resources."

To her, it sounded like a long-winded way to say he'd been sleeping. She hummed, and then nodded. "Let's call that sleeping and leave it there."

A light beep on the coffee maker echoed in the room. She went to get a cup from the cabinet, and left her tablet on the table. Connor stared down at it, words like 'camps' and 'raid' in big, bold letters jumping out at him. He was picking the pad up as she filled a mug and turned to face him.

"It's all just one shit show after another," She muttered, using the sides of her mug to warm her palms.

At the sight of his pain, she stopped herself from commenting on her doubt. He scowled at the screen, his mind going through the obvious motions of guilt and grief. "This is my fault. I should have known CyberLife would follow me there..."

She shook her head. Maybe he was right, but she also knew it didn't matter. "We were going to find them either way. They were using a name plastered on the side of a giant ship. With Perkins' resources, it was just a matter of time," She argued.

He wasn't sure what he wanted from her, be it reassurance or blame, but he suspected neither would soothe him. Looking up at her, he spoke in a strained voice, "If I'd just listened sooner, maybe I could have done this differently."

That sort of thinking wasn't new to Andy. She'd said it herself a time or two, and heard it from other officers even more. It would get them nowhere. With pursed lips and a sharp stare, she told him, "That's true about literally everything." He started to argue, but she wouldn't allow him the chance. "We can only do what we think is right and hope for the best. Dwelling on the past won't change it."

She was right, and he knew she was. It occurred to him then that he'd never had the freedom before to let himself feel those things and be honest with himself. He had certainly felt them - regret followed him at every corner - but when he was CyberLife's deviant hunter, he had no choice but to push them aside and move on without being ready to. Now he had to cycle through them and deal with it, and that was almost more intimidating than the rebellion itself.

The tablet was flashing images of the android detainment centers CyberLife was erecting, and he realized facing his emotions would have to wait. "Recycling centers," He mumbled, scoffing, "They're just destroying us."

Andy offered a shrug and a small smile. "Maybe Markus has some big plan that'll change the world," She said, tone conveying a light optimism neither of them felt.

At the very least, Connor knew one thing. "I should be there. I need to fix this."

She nodded, and leaned off the kitchen counter. "I can take you, but I have a stop to make first."

* * *

Andy walked into the police precinct and was almost lost among the crowd of federal and SWAT agents in the bullpen. Tensions were high, orders and status updates being yelled out from one end of the station to the other. There was no sign of Perkins, but she doubted that could mean anything good. She weaved through them all, making her way to the office for Special Investigations.

Richards was leaning over his desk when she entered. She shut the door behind her, murmuring a quiet, awkward, "Hey."

He looked up and nodded in greeting. He didn't seem fazed by the surge in activity outside his office, or particularly upset with her, but she knew him well enough. He was not a loud or emotive person; it was the little things that tipped you off to his mood. For example, the tapping finger implied a headache, and the tight lips told her she was not off the hook yet.

"You want to talk about yesterday?" He asked her. It was not a real question.

"It's a long story," She started, walking to the front of the desk.

"Shorten it."

She paused at his sharp response, her shoulders tensing. Knowing there was no use delaying this, she blurted out, "I think shooting first and asking questions later is going to bite us in the ass, and maybe we should consider what Markus is saying." She took a breath, and pleaded, "I know you never cared for androids, but I really need someone to turn to, here."

He'd remained stoic through her answer, as if he wasn't even listening. They remained like this for several seconds and it was playing into her nerves until he finally quirked his brows and stood straight. "Well, you're right about that. I don't like 'em. Don't know what they're thinking, don't know how they work...," He trailed off, shaking his head, "But Connor doesn't seem half bad. Hank thinks so, so something good is there." That brought up a new thought, and he asked, "Does Hank know about this?"

She shrugged. "He has... a vague idea."

Snorting, he muttered, "Vague ideas are pretty much what all of us are running on these days."

He said nothing else so Andy assumed that, for now at least, they were good. He would give her a chance. If that was the case, she had a favor to call in. "I need to know what Perkins is planning. I won't put anyone in danger," She assured him.

"He's going door to door around the docks," He started, sitting down, "If he doesn't find anything, he's upping patrols during curfew and he'll start scouring the river tomorrow."

It seemed extreme from where Andy was standing, but it was indication of something greater. "Sounds like he's getting desperate," She said.

"More like pissed. I think his ego's bruised," He replied, a hint of amusement behind his eyes.

"Do you have a map I could use?"

"Yeah, I should," He nodded, leaning forward. He opened a drawer to his desk and reached in while asking, "So do you have some kind of strategy here?"

She thought about pulling a response from thin air - a half-baked scheme that was either vague or outlandish - but it wasn't that kind of day. "Honestly? I'm winging it and it scares the shit outta me," She confessed, relieved to finally be telling someone.

Richards pulled a map from the drawer, and held it out to her. He watched her, asking, "Well what about tomorrow? Are you coming back in to work?"

She shook her head. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

His expression was firm as he warned her, "You should. I'm not sure I can keep you from Perkins if you do."

It was yet another obstacle she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with. "Yeah," She mumbled with a long, worried sigh. "Thanks for the map." He nodded, and she headed for the door.

Leaving the station, she crossed the street and travelled a block down. Her bike was parked by the sidewalk here, still in sight of the department, but far enough to blend in. On a bench nearby sat Connor, donned in the beanie and the thick clothes Hank lent him.

She sat down beside him, and watched traffic. She didn't have to say anything for him to notice her stress, and he began to worry she was in more trouble with Richards than they predicted. "Are you all right?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that. Instead, she told him, "Richards wanted to know if I'm working tomorrow."

So she wasn't in much trouble with Richards, but that appeared to be the least of her concerns now. With Perkins taking over the case and growing more overzealous by the hour, Andy going into work only spelled disaster. "You can't," Connor panicked, "You'll have to follow Perkins or they'll suspect you."

Whatever she was going to do, she couldn't worry about it now. Sighing, she stood from the bench and said, "I'll figure something out. Let's just... get to Jericho."

* * *

Andy took a winding, unnecessary route to get to the church. She didn't believe she had aroused suspicion, but she worked with SID long enough to know she wouldn't have noticed if she had. With them and the FBI working together, nothing was out of the realm of possibility. When they arrived at the church, she made sure to park in the lot behind it, tucking her bike away in a corner.

Movement by the front door as they entered caught Markus' eye. He removed himself from the group of androids he was working with to meet them in the isle between the pews. "Connor," He greeted, nodding to them both, "I'm glad Andy managed to find you."

Connor looked over Markus' shoulder to the end of the church. The pews and the floor by the stage were full of androids, sitting in small scattered groups. A dark cloud settled in the air above each of them, leaving a tense, scared silence in the room. The androids Connor didn't see were the ones to weigh on his conscience most.

"How many are there?" He asked, already knowing he'd hate the answer.

Markus glanced back, telling him, "We've had a loss, but it could have been much worse."

Connor was beginning to spiral into his blame again, and Andy noticed it. A discreet hand went to the back of his arm and squeezed as she spoke up, "There's a statewide curfew starting tonight. They'll be patrolling the whole city, especially near the border."

"They'll be taking anyone they find to the extermination camps, I imagine," Markus spat, a faint curl to his lips.

She nodded. "FBI works fast," Holding up the rolled map Richards handed her, she added, "I have an idea of where they're looking, though."

He continued to be surprised by her willingness to help them. Gesturing to an area by the wall on his left, he said, "There's a table over here." He turned to lead them away from the doors toward an unused table, and began to explain to them his current plan. "We're going to set up in the middle of the city and protest. We'll talk to the humans."

Reaching the table, Andy unfolded her map and stretched it across the surface. She looked to Markus with doubt, asking, "The humans will be shooting at you. Are you sure you want to do that?"

He shook his head and replied, "I refuse to shed more blood for this fight. We have to do this peacefully or they'll paint us as broken machines."

It was an admirable thought, but she knew lining themselves up in front of armed law enforcement wasn't going to achieve their goal. "Well I appreciate the idea, but at this point, it's just going to be seen as cleaning up CyberLife's mess," She argued.

This gave Markus pause. He wasn't offended by her words - he knew they were a warning, and they were probably true. The problem was he couldn't see a better way. North and Simon had their own ideas about what to do next, from violent action to retreating and regrouping, and even though they supported Markus as Jericho's leader, they were pushing for their preferred extremes.

The conflict was obvious on his face, and spurred Connor on to act. This was partly his doing, and he needed to fix it. Looking out to the remaining deviants, he had an idea. "There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power...," He murmured.

Their reactions were adverse and swift. Andy reached out a hand to slow him down, protesting, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute."

"You want to infiltrate the CyberLife Tower? Connor, that's suicide," Markus interjected.

It was half a plan, he would admit that much, but he also knew it was all they had. They needed the numbers to overwhelm their opposition, peaceful or not. He looked between them, explaining, "They trust me, they'll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it's me."

Andy still refused to agree. "We don't know that. It's already been a day since you went rogue."

"She's right. If you go there, they will kill you," Markus added.

Narrowing his eyes at them both, Connor replied, "They'll kill us without an army, too. There aren't enough of us right now to make a stand."

Seconds passed as his words sunk in, Markus and Andy sharing a long, uncertain stare. Sighing, Andy's hands went to her hips as she told Connor, "Well you're not going anywhere without an actual plan."

* * *

Connor stood at one side of the table, gesturing as he said, "I'll get my uniform from Hank's and return to CyberLife under the impression of reporting in."

"And what if they recognize you're deviant right away?" Andy asked, leaning over the map with her jacket long removed.

Despite the severity of the question, he shrugged. "I'll tell them I've been compromised but my loyalties still stand with CyberLife."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, easy."

Over the next few hours, the team had planned their move. Other members of Jericho would join briefly to offer suggestions or give Markus updates. Some androids who escaped the freighter were hunkering down in other areas, in abandoned homes and back alleys. Some had left altogether upon hearing about the curfew and the recycling centers.

There were disagreements, certainly, and a few budding arguments between Connor and Andy that Markus mediated, but they all recognized what needed to be done. They all had a common goal, and it kept them grounded.

* * *

Crossing her arms over her chest, Andy insisted, "Security won't let you on that elevator alone, they just won't."

"I'll disable them."

She pointed at him and ordered, "_Without_ murder. Eden Club stranglers are one thing; you kill a guard, this is all over."

At the other end of the table, Markus nodded. "She's right. This needs to be clean."

It would be difficult, but Connor was made to overcome difficulties. As he was going through this in his mind, Andy sighed. "So you get in and free them - how do you get back out? You go five at a time up the elevator and hope no one notices?"

"There are doors to the docking bay on that floor," He answered.

"Then you need to make sure no one will be waiting for you out there."

Markus piped up, offering, "Some of us can go with you and create a distraction."

"No, I need to do this alone," Connor was quick to reply. They'd already lost at least a dozen members of Jericho to the raid, and many more to the camps. Hank and Andy risked their careers and livelihoods to get him where he was now. He refused to put anyone in the line of fire again, not after everything that happened so far. Not after everything he was trying to make up for.

It was a noble sentiment, Markus thought, but also one that complicated things. "How are you going to make sure no one's at the docking bay?"

* * *

"Are you certain you want to do this by yourself?" Markus asked.

He stood beside Connor and across from Andy, his attention on the former deviant hunter. They'd formulated a full plan by now, but the risk was great. No matter how desperate or confident anyone was, they knew this was a long shot.

But Connor wouldn't let that stop him. He began to repeat what he'd been saying all day, "I'm not going to put anyone else in danger-"

"Putting yourself in more danger than necessary isn't going to help, either," Andy interrupted, growing more tired of hearing his argument by the minute.

His eyes narrowed on her. "This _is_ necessary," He insisted before more calmly assuring her, "I'll be okay."

It was clear she didn't like what he said, but with a faint scowl, she chose to leave it - for now. Markus spoke up, not wanting to give her time to change her mind. "Let's assume he succeeds. How long will it take to get to the protest?"

Andy turned her focus onto the map, dragging a finger across as she said, "They'll probably be blocking off these streets with SWAT vehicles. If things get rough, they'll bring in tanks from this way." She paused to perform some quick, messy math, and shrugged. "Twenty minutes, maybe?"

"Can you do that?" Markus asked, to which Connor nodded.

"I think so."

"So we keep them busy long enough for Connor to arrive, and we hope our numbers overwhelm them," Markus summarized. It was easier said than done, and the gunshot wound from their march down Woodward was nagging at him. "Granted, they have to not shoot us all down first," He muttered.

Even with Connor attempting a coup in the middle of the lion's den, what Markus was going to do was the most dangerous job. There was not a single reason Perkins wouldn't have all of Jericho killed and destroyed before Connor so much as set foot in the warehouse of CyberLife, let alone made it out to the street.

Andy had an idea, but it was just a kernel.

Heaving a large sigh, she said, "I'll take care of police response - you worry about your part."

The androids standing across from her shared a glance with each other and then to her. "What are you going to do?" Markus asked.

She was quiet a few more seconds, reassuring herself that this was for a good cause, and that she would not fail. Finally she looked up from the map and told him, "I'm going to go into work tomorrow."

* * *

Markus returned to the others to inform them of the next day's schedule. They listened to his every word, equal parts fear and hope on their faces. For Markus' part, he did his best to appear confident and soothe their nerves. It was a bittersweet moment, sunlight peaking through church windows of saviors and saints and casting a glow over an otherwise dark moment.

"There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

Lingering by the front doors in a pew furthest from the scene, Andy and Connor watched them. She sat over the back of the pew with her feet on the booth, and Connor stood at her left side. She'd spoken to him seemingly out of the blue, seeking confirmation, reassurance, or something to ease her concern.

Connor shook his head, his answer simple. "No."

"Well then, it's stupid." He looked to her in mild surprise, and she replied with a blank stare and a subtle pout. "_You're_ stupid."

There was no real bite to her words, and it pulled a smile from him. "I get lucky," He offered, shrugging.

She rolled her eyes and waved off his comment, muttering, "Luck tends to run out once you get cocky, so maybe cool it a little."

"I appreciate your concern," He started, leaning toward her, "But I'm going to be okay."

His words did not help her - if anything, the flash of emotion on her face indicated they angered her. Expression souring, she scolded him, "You can't promise that, so don't." He had no time to regret his words and apologize before she was looking away to the other side of the church. "Just follow the plan and do what you need to do."

"I will." He watched her, trying to understand where her head was in that moment. They weren't strangers to disagreements, but this was a glimpse at a frustration he'd seen all but once. It was early on in their relationship when they found Hank on the floor of his kitchen, gun in hand. He wouldn't understand until later how harsh the fight that followed really was.

It was an odd feeling to think of himself as not a machine these humans worked with, but as another _person_ in their lives. He always knew his actions affected them, but now he was solely accountable for those consequences. Now there was no arguing about her concern - he was _not_ just a machine and it was not pointless. It was odd to accept her worry.

But he was not the only one to cause concern. Andy would be putting herself in the line of fire tomorrow, and without his success, she would fail. "Are _you_ sure about you're going to do?" He asked, turning the conversation onto her.

"Nope," She popped, unaware of his mulling. "It might not even work. And I still have to get Richards on board, and he's already done more than I should ever ask of him-"

"You can back out while there's still time," He interrupted, drawing her attention back to him. "I wouldn't blame you."

They stared for a long time, perhaps letting doubt grow within themselves, or trying to let go of their fears. Finally, she mumbled, "I would."

Markus had begun to approach them, and he stood in the isle by the pews. Leaning in, he asked Andy, "May I talk to you?" Curiously, Andy nodded and slid off the pew. She met him in the isle between, and he requested, "I have a small favor to ask."

She wondered how small this favor would actually be, but shrugged, "Why not? Got nothing better to do."

With a small, grateful smile, he said, "There's somewhere I need to go. I was hoping you'd give me a ride."

"Markus-" They looked behind him to see North approach with a hand out toward his arm. "Don't. We can't trust her. She's a _human_ with the _cops._ I'm surprised we're not dead already," She spat out, sending a heated glare Andy's way.

Andy wasn't a stranger to distaste for authority, but this felt a conversation not for her ears. She shifted awkwardly in place, hands sipping into her pockets and eyes drifting away to the side.

It was also a conversation that had been going for a while, and Markus walked away from it for a reason. "Which is why I think we _can_ trust her," He started, "I need to go, North."

Her lips pursed as she stared at him, trying to think of something to say to convince him otherwise. She believed he was letting his emotions get in the way of logic, that this could wait until after they fought for their freedom, but it was a sensitive topic, and North was not very good at sensitive.

Finally, she said, "Well if you're going, I'm coming with you."

Markus paused, and they both looked to Andy. It seemed a decent compromise. Realizing they were waiting on her, she perked up, glancing between them. Still stiff, she mumbled, "I... have a bike."

North dropped her shoulders and gave a visible scoff. Andy shrugged and tried her best to appear clueless and innocent. Putting a hand on North's arm, Markus assured her, "I'm going to be okay."

North wanted to argue, but she swallowed it down and stepped back. Andy turned to see Connor still watching curiously, and she gestured to him that all was well, and to wait there. Markus walked by her to the doors, and she fell in step beside him, asking, "So where to?"

* * *

"You're going to _what_?"

Andy winced at the yell. She stood at the end of a snowy path, where she had wrapped up the description of her vague outline of a plan with Hank over the phone. If he got his outbursts out of his system _before_ they returned to his home, perhaps they could enjoy their last night of quiet before all hell broke loose. Glancing back to check on Markus, she whispered, "Do you have a better idea?"

She could almost feel Hank's incredulous stare. "Gee, I don't know - don't obstruct justice?"

"It's not obstruction," She argued, offended. Trailing off, she muttered, "It's... a detour."

Silence followed.

"A detour."

Closing her eyes, she began, "I know that's stupid-"

"Yeah!"

She ignored his interjection, continuing, "-But it's the only choice I can live with."

That would simply have to be enough of a reason. It was for her, and after her last conversation with Hank, she hoped he would understand. He heaved a sigh and exclaimed, "You realize this will _have_ to work, right? If you do this and androids fail at this revolution thing, you're not just out of a job, Andy. You're going to be seen as a domestic fuckin' terrorist!"

She shrugged. "I'm trying to not think about it."

Scoffing, he muttered, "Yeah, well, it's all I _can_ think about. Does Connor know you're doing this?"

"He knows the gist," She replied. The question got her thinking about Connor's part in all of this; it was integral to everyone's success, and that gamble had her more nervous than anything else. "Honestly, you think my plan's bad, you should hear his."

"No, no, no, don't. I'm too sober for more bullshit," He spat.

"I'm doing this, Hank, so just..." She didn't know what to say here. It was too much to ask him to agree with her, and even if he could, she would never ask him to help. All she wanted was for him to understand. "Have my back."

He snorted, telling her, "That was a given, Andy."

It really wasn't, not to her. She smiled, mumbling, "Thanks."

Hanging up, she glanced to the time and turned around. Yards away from her, Markus stood in front of a sleek new grave covered in snow. He spoke under his breath to someone lost, and he paid respects. They needed to leave before it got dark, though, and she'd decided now was the time to approach him.

As she closed in, he spoke louder, "Carl was a good man. He didn't deserve the way things ended."

She stopped beside him and nodded. "That's usually how it goes."

"He was a father to me. He taught me so much...," He shook his head, finally pulling his eyes away from the name on the tombstone to look up at the clouds overhead. "I keep trying to imagine what he'd say to me now, but all I hear is questions and blame."

Cocking her head to the side, she repeated, "That's usually how it goes." Feeling herself fidget in her pockets, she added, "And people tell you they wouldn't blame you, and you know they're right, but it doesn't matter. You can't stop hearing your doubts in their voice."

He looked down at her, taking in her words. Carl had always pushed him to be more than his programming, to look beyond barriers and limitations and see the world for what it was capable of being. What he was doing now with Jericho was almost a natural progression from there, but it didn't change the doubt and the worry.

"Maybe that's just the burden of being left behind," He speculated, his voice soft and bittersweet, "Having to accept that we need to find our own way without them."

She huffed, but offered a weak smile. "Yeah."

He opened his mouth to speak once more, but cut himself short. His expression fell, and noticing it put Andy on guard. He was looking over her head now, staring with a cold anger that Andy usually only saw seconds before someone was shot. She turned to assess the situation, half expecting federal agents or her own colleagues.

Markus was almost towering over her, the way he stood there now facing down Leo Manfred.

She knew his face almost as well as Markus did, though for different reasons. To Markus, he was the reason his life fell apart. For Andy, he was one of Nick Weaver's regulars who stopped coming around a month prior. He hadn't even noticed Andy, returning Markus' stare with one of shock, regret, and fear.

"Let's go," Markus whispered behind Andy.

The quiet warning in his tone put her on edge more than she would have expected, but she nodded and followed behind him. She kept a hand near the gun at her hip as they moved, and a close eye on the man who still hadn't moved from his spot.

They passed by slowly, and Leo didn't dare look at either of them.

* * *

After returning Markus to his people, Andy and Connor went back to Hank's. Thanks to Andy's earlier warning giving Hank time to cool down, there had been a smaller lecture than expected that met the two of them upon return.

She sat at the kitchen table now and scrolled through news on her tablet with a half empty bottle of beer in one hand. Hank sat across from her, immersed in his own thoughts. Connor was the same, sitting on the couch and absent-mindedly petting Sumo.

A part of him wanted to stay at the church where he thought he needed to be, but another part felt his presence would make others uncomfortable. He was deviant now, yes, and he wanted to help Jericho more than anything, but in some of their eyes, he was still the deviant hunter who had made their lives dark and difficult. It was best to give them space, especially when the threat of tomorrow was hanging over them.

"What do you think our chances are?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Andy and Hank looked to him; while Hank struggled to find a way to be encouraging despite his pessimism, Andy had no such trouble. With quirked brows, she replied, "Slim to none?"

With a small snort, Hank confided, "Perkins certainly isn't going to have a change of heart."

"You did," She joked.

He leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes. "_I'm_ not a scumbag."

This brought her a small grin. Connor hadn't said anything more after the first question, and it got Andy thinking about what was on his mind. Deciding they'd had enough of doom and dread, she called to him and asked, "What are you going to do if this does work out?"

He tuned back in to the world. It was a strange question that never occurred to him on his own. They were so stuck on yesterday and tomorrow that any time after that seemed so far away. "I hadn't considered getting there yet," He confessed, giving it the thought now. In a perfect world, regardless of anything else, he saw himself back in the DPD. "Do you think Captain Fowler would hire an android when this is over?"

Andy made a habit of not trying to predict her captain. It would never end well. She shrugged and answered, "You've got a better chance than anyone else."

Taking a sip of what was left of his beer, Hank added, "The others are mostly runaway housekeepers and laborers. Winning the first fight's only the beginning." He trailed off, letting his words sink in before asking, "You sure you're ready for that?"

They weren't _ready_ for anything, but was anyone ever ready for a revolution? Shaking his head, Connor stated, "It doesn't matter. I'm alive and there's no turning back."

It was as good an answer as any, if not the only one. "Just gotta hope everyone else sees it," Andy murmured.

The mood had fallen again, and the new quiet lingered. With his beer finished, Hank heaved a sigh and stood from the table. "Well I'm calling it a night," He declared, moving to toss his bottle in the trash. He stopped at the corner of the kitchen on his way out, and turned to face the others. "Listen, uh...," He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd say 'don't do anything stupid,' but, well- Good luck tomorrow."

They didn't reply right away, but Andy nodded. "Thanks, Hank." He sighed again before he retreated to his bedroom, leaving them to themselves. She would need to get some sleep soon, too, though how easily that would come was beyond her. Their chances really did seem slim to none.

She should have been a wreck over it. It should have had her a shaking mess, and she was almost there earlier that day, but something else was occupying her thoughts tonight. Tapping a finger on the side of her bottle, she spoke up, "You want to know something weird?"

It caught Connor's attention, and he asked, "What is it?"

She took a moment to get her words together. "Tomorrow we're standing up to the entire country and risking death and prison and who knows what else...," Trailing off, she shook her head. "And all I can think about right now is Leo Manfred."

He recognized the name. Not only was it was in his files at work, but he'd seen the man himself in Sam's memories. It wasn't even on the list of things he would have expected her to say. He sat up on the couch, tilting his head. "Carl Manfred's son?"

She ignored the question and let herself muse. "I knew the guy-" She waved a hand, specifying, "Leo, not Carl. He was one of Weaver's clients. Used to brag about his dad's money." Huffing into the bottle of beer, she took a sip and continued, "Stupid. If not for Sharon, Weaver would've gone for it. Broke in while Manfred was at some big event somewhere."

It was yet another version of reality he would be grateful didn't come to pass, but still he didn't understand. "Why are you thinking about him?"

She wish she knew the answer to that question. "One day he was gone. Out of nowhere. We thought maybe he OD'd or left town. Sometimes they do that - they got a warrant and they disappear for a while." Her face went blank at that point, not knowing if what she felt was sympathy, frustration, or some twisted sense of guilt. Under her breath, she muttered, "Turns out his dad just died."

Connor watched her sit in her contemplation. He still didn't understand it - and he was coming to the realization he probably never would - but it sort of amazed him. Of all the things to focus on and obsess over, for Andy, it was this. It was Leo Manfred, an addict she knew only as Victoria Palmer. It was his life and the pain he'd gone through that was settled into the forefront of her mind.

He had nothing but side commentary to offer her, for whatever that was worth. "It's interesting how grief can alter a person's entire life."

"Interesting," She repeated to herself. It's not the word she would have chosen. At least, it didn't feel very fascinating for the one going through it. That was scary and overwhelming and a bit like you were the heaviest object in the ocean, just sinking to the bottom. Her throat started tightening, but she pushed through. "Connor."

Her voice was soft now, right above a whisper, and he worried he said the wrong thing. "Yes?"

She kept her eyes on the table, and on the tablet in front of her. Recycling centers, curfews, and raids. It was all she could find, each story more sensational than the last. _This_ was not interesting. There had been enough grief. "Promise me."

He was lost for a second, but their conversation in the church came back to him now. "But you..."

"I know." She nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn't press the issue. She couldn't explain herself, not when she didn't know how.

He didn't understand her - and he was beginning to suspect few people ever did - but she amazed him.

"I promise I'll be okay." He hoped it was sincere enough, heavy enough to resonate with her and offer her whatever comfort she was looking for.

She couldn't say if it helped or not. All the words in the world couldn't change the risks or stop the nightmare scenarios, but words and hope were all she had. It was more than what Leo Manfred had, or Markus, or Hank, and it was more than she'd ever been given before.

It would have to be enough.


	12. Reporters and Barricades

**November 16, 2038**

_"At 6 AM yesterday morning, a national curfew was declared. Civilian movement will be strictly controlled, the right to assembly is suspended, all electronic communications are restricted, and I have granted enhanced powers to our security agencies. In addition to these measures, all androids must be handed over-"_

Lieutenant Richards muted the TV and tossed the remote behind him onto his desk. He sat against the edge at one end, and he faced the wall-mounted screen in the SID office with an unreadable expression.

Andy stood nearby. They'd been suffering an awkward silence ever since she came into work and asked for his help, and it was wearing on her. Shifting nervously, she began, "I know I'm asking a lot, and it's a big risk-"

Snorting, he glanced to her and muttered, "That's an understatement."

It was, and she couldn't believe she was asking it, but this was too important. She couldn't back down. "I need your help."

He said nothing right away, contemplating his answer. Helping her this far had been stupid, especially when he had almost no confidence in an android revolution. Either way he looked at it, though, the president's press conference was nothing short of atrocious to him. They were lines pulled straight from history books, and he had a feeling this was his chance to not be on the wrong side.

"You sure about this - about them?" He asked, gesturing to the screen as it played b-roll of Jericho's former marches and protests.

At this question, her nerves ebbed away. "I am."

If he knew anything, it was that when Andy was this certain, she was usually right. Heaving a loud sigh, he made up his mind and nodded. "Then let's convince everyone else."

If it were that simple, she thought, they would have done it already. Cocking her head, she retorted, "I'll put world peace on the to-do list, but in the meantime, maybe we think a little smaller?"

He reached for a sticky note and a pen as told her, "Thinking small is what got your pals into this mess in the first place." Writing quick information on the paper, he held the note out for her to take. "You forget we have contacts."

She recognized the name scribbled over top a phone number, and it was all she needed to know what he wanted. She began to ask another question, when the door opened. Officer Louis Springer peaked his head into the room, and upon seeing them, he approached the desk.

"What do you need, Springer?" Richards asked.

He was reluctant to answer, but he glanced to Andy and said, "Perkins wants more of us on patrol."

Richards scoffed and threw up a dismissive hand. Standing from his desk's edge, he exclaimed, "There _aren't_ any more of us! It's just us three left."

Springer shrugged and offered, "We could pull from Traffic."

"We're not pulling from anywhere. This precinct still needs to run its day to day," Richards argued, thudding his index finger against the surface of his desk. Pointing at the officer, he said, "You tell Perkins he'll have to go knocking on Fowler's door before I put half of Detroit's police force on his precious Robo Watch."

Snorting, Springer nodded and turned to leave. "Yeah, I'll tell him that."

They waited until he left, and they heard his footsteps echo away from the door. Sneaking around their own felt inherently immoral, but that didn't mean it actually was. They would have to keep telling themselves that. "I hope you know what you're doing," Richards broke the silence, grim as he stared at the door, "Because this is either gonna be one messy end or just the beginning."

* * *

Connor stood in Hank's bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. With his uniform cleaned and his hair brushed back, he looked the same as he did the day he arrived at the police department. At the time, he was stoic, distant, and driven to fulfil what he thought was his purpose. Looking at himself now was like looking into the past, but with clearer hindsight and a dose of self-loathing.

He had once been willing to do anything to stop deviancy, even if it meant self destruction. That changed so quickly after the accident on the highway, when for the first time, he felt something. He felt _fear_, and it made him see everything in a different light. Pulling Hank up on that roof, letting the deviants at Eden Club escape, trying to save Andy, not killing Chloe - they had all been his little acts of rebellion against CyberLife. He was trying to redeem himself even before he became deviant, but now was his chance to do it the right way.

He finished his tie and pat it down on his chest before going into the living room. On top of Andy's tablet on the coffee table was a closed envelope, her name neatly written in the middle of it. The contents had taken him all morning to prepare, and he almost destroyed it three times since he finished it. It was a contingency plan, a small comfort for a worst case scenario. He did not want to die, not after he promised her he would be okay, but he would stop at nothing to see this through, and he had to prepare for that ending.

Connor said his goodbyes to Sumo, and left the house.

* * *

The hours went by as though it was a normal day at work. All units in the bullpen responded to normal dispatch calls and took on normal cases. People came into the station to report various nuisances, robberies, and vandalisms. Captain Fowler handled phone calls from the Chief of Police and managed his own station. In the SID office, Richards and Andy were discussing the logistics of their plan for the night, and keeping a close eye on the time.

The sun was going down when Andy stood and left the office. She slid a hand into her pocket and was on her way to the bathroom when she heard a yell from the bullpen. "Hey, Hope!" She didn't need to look back to see Gavin Reed rushing to catch up to her. He slowed down at her side, musing, "Lookin' bored in that office."

She shrugged, offering a simple, "It's a boring day."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be out shooting down plastics with the FBI, unfortunately," He complained. Andy stopped at the door to a bathroom, and he turned to face her with a smirk. Gesturing to his desk, he said, "But if you rejoined homicide, you'd be out there with me."

It wasn't the first time he tried to get her to return to homicide, and she doubted it would be the last. She pulled her phone from her pocket as she glanced to him. "Kiss my ass, Reed," She said before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door in his face.

She crossed the room and entered the stall in the back, shutting the door and dialing the number Richards gave her. She stood still in the small space she had, listening for echoes in the bathroom underneath the ringing in her ear. When a voice finally answered on the other said, she began. "Hey, Joss, this is the Special Investigations Division with the DPD. I'm about to make your day."

* * *

It was only as Connor's taxi drove toward the CyberLife tower that it started to sink in how exactly risky this plan was. There was a very real possibility that he would be destroyed on sight for deviating, or worse - he would be taken into custody and they would relieve him of his memories. The idea that he could be used as a weapon against Jericho with or without his input was the most unsettling one of them all.

His taxi reached the end of the bridge and neared the gates blocking passage. Armed guards stood in position nearby, and once the car stopped, one of the guards approached. A drone hovered overhead, its spotlight shining on the taxi. Connor rolled down the window as the guard leaned in to meet him.

"Connor Model #313 248 317. I'm expected."

The visor the guard wore lit up, scanning Connor's LED. It was a swift process that felt like hours, and then the guard nodded. "Okay. Go ahead."

He stepped back, allowing the car room to proceed. The gate opened, and Connor was taken to the front of the tower, where many employees were already leaving for the night. He almost felt relieved at getting past the gate, but reminded himself it was the easiest step. Getting unrestricted use of the elevator would be his next hurdle, and that would require a special level of discipline.

* * *

Joss Douglas had been hesitant to take the information Andy was offering him, but he recognized a news story when he saw it. Once she was satisfied he would play his part, she ended the call and left the bathroom. She was on her way back to SID's office when she spotted Agent Perkins near the entrance of the bullpen. He was speaking with Springer, no doubt receiving the rejection for more of the department's resources.

He scoffed at something Springer said and shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the captain's office. Along the way, he caught sight of Andy, and stopped to linger on her. They were never introduced, and this was the first time they had shared so much as a glance, but they knew each other all the same. This exchange alone was enough for them to decide they did not like each other.

One ringing phone was normal in the department, but every one of them going off was not. Andy stopped walking, and she and Perkins both looked toward the bullpen. Almost every desk had a call coming in from dispatch, and in his office, Fowler seemed to be juggling a handful of them himself. It didn't take long for Perkins' own cellphone to join the frenzy.

Markus was on the move.

The door to SID opened and Richards came face to face with Andy. "Time to move out," He nodded and shut the door behind him, "Hope you convinced Joss."

"You're not the only one," She mused, falling into place behind him.

They stepped up to Perkins, who pulled away from his phone to point at them. "Detective Richards, I need your people to set up blockades at-"

"That's _Lieutenant_ Richards, Agent Perkins, but I'll forgive you - it's hard for kids to remember that kind of thing," Richards interjected, casually inciting Perkins' ego. He waved a hand, adding, "And we're already on it. Turns out my people are quicker on the draw than yours, and they're gonna box them in right where we want 'em. We've got a good back route to get there, too, if you think you need some help-"

Perkins was glaring at Richards as he snapped, "I think we can manage, _Lieutenant._"

Richards shrugged, and gestured for Andy and Springer to follow him. "Suit yourself."

* * *

Connor stood in an elevator with two guards who insisted on escorting him. Their backs were turned to him, and they faced the glass as they ascended to floor 31. This gave Connor enough room to locate the security camera in the corner of the elevator, and disable it.

Fifteen seconds. It took him fifteen seconds to incapacitate the guards. He was careful not to kill them, remembering the order Andy issued him. It was an important order, as blood had yet to be spilled by Markus, and it was an ideal they needed to follow if they wanted this to go their way. So he delivered swift blows to their head, enough to knock them out cold but keep them alive.

He stepped over their bodies and reached for the panel by the doors. Placing a hand on the interface, he waited for the software to respond.

_"Please indicate your identity and destination."_

"Agent 54. Level -49," He said. His voice was not his own, instead mimicking the unconscious guard to his right.

_"Voice recognition validated. Access authorized."_

He stepped back and knelt down. To ensure the guards would not be a problem, he removed their visors, emptied their guns - save for one he kept for himself - and disabled their radios. With ten floors left to go, he stood and waited to arrive at the warehouse level.

* * *

Andy jumped out of the police cruiser with Richards and Springer not far behind her. While Richards moved to the back of the car and Springer took off, she took a moment to look around.

Hart Plaza was already buzzing with activity. Officers from SID were rounding up barricades and pushing them out to the streets. A group of reporters and photographers seemed to have been tipped off early, as they stood along the outskirts. They looked in at the armored vehicles and the command post being set up in front of the recycling center that was erected in the plaza the day prior. The scene was the start of a storm, and Andy was feeling the weight.

"Shame the FBI couldn't make it past that road block," Came Richards' voice. She stepped around to the back of the cruiser, where he had opened the trunk and was preparing the duffle bags of equipment he brought with them.

She pulled a bulletproof vest from one of the bags. As she hoisted it over her torso, she muttered, "Guess they should've followed us down that back way after all."

Richards snorted and held out her helmet. "Go help with the barricades," He said as she tossed it between her hands.

She slid the helmet over her head as she raced across the street to the last section that needed to be blocked off. A line of journalists had formed there with cameras and microphones, attempting to gather a statement from authorities. Andy reached for the end of a barricade, helping one of her co-workers push it into place.

"A question, officers! Just one!"

She glanced up at the reporters, scanning over each of them until she reached the end of the line. The woman standing there wore a lanyard with Channel 16 credentials, and she latched onto the attention, holding out a recorder. "Officer! Is the DPD prepared for a riot like this?"

Andy shifted backwards and said, "This is a protest, not a riot."

They turned to walk away, but the reporter pushed past the others around her, asking, "Do you think a peaceful protest deserves this sort of response, then?"

The officer standing beside Andy shook her head in exasperation and walked by. Andy was left alone with the reporters for only a moment. "Not all of us agree with our orders," She told them before following after her co-worker, ignoring the rapid fire questions that erupted from the reporters.

A helicopter flew over the plaza, _Channel 16_ printed on the side of it in large letters. Inside was Joss Douglas, directing his pilot to trail down the street, following the road blocks along Woodward Avenue. This was because half a mile away was a marching army of deviants.

Markus led the formation, with North to his left, and Josh and Simon on his right. They could see the road block from where they were already, including the armed officers and the journalists who waited for them. He looked up at the helicopter, standing there a moment longer as it circled around them, and then he continued Jericho's march.

They did not run. They did not yell, or fight. They walked down the road, shoulder to shoulder, eyes forward. They let bystanders stare and whisper to each other. They let photographers flash their cameras. It was a calm display in the face of a disproportionate response. It was their last stand.

At the command post, Andy joined Richards, who stood with a mix of SID and FBI agents now. A line of officers were forming behind individual barricades and resting heavy weaponry over the edges, each one aimed at Jericho. Richards watched the march, a coffee cup in his hand.

An officer on the line looked over his shoulder at the lieutenant. They had all been waiting for his word, and he decided now to say something. "Sir, we're ready on your order."

Richards merely shook his head. "We wait for backup before we do anything."

The officers shifted, their firearms lowering in uncertainty. Sharing glances, the one who spoke started to reply, "Agent Perkins-"

"Isn't here," Richards interrupted. He shrugged and motioned toward Jericho with his still-warm cup, saying, "Maybe they're all here to turn themselves in. We don't know why those androids are gathering, and until we do, I'm saying we hold." He looked to each of the FBI agents, stressing, "When Perkins finds his way out of his ass, you can take his orders all you want."

There was another, heavier shift, but they gave small nods of confirmation. "Yes, Sir..."

It didn't take long for Jericho to reach the end of the line.

They stood several yards from the center, and spread out to cover the width of the street. Markus kept his gaze straight ahead, searching the faces of the officers. Although helmets obscured them from his sight, he suspected the woman standing beside the presumed leader of these forces was Andy. He hoped she'd done her part to help them, whatever it was. When she left them the day before, she seemed to have only half a plan.

"Here we are... The moment of truth," He murmured to those closest to him. He stepped forward, breaking away from the deviants behind him and moving forward a number of feet.

No one shot him yet, which had to be a good sign. They were listening, whether they wanted to or not. "We ask that you release all androids detained in camps and cease all aggression against us," He yelled out to them, "We are peaceful. We will not resort to violence. But we are not leaving until our people are free."

Behind the command post lines, Richards lifted his coffee cup. "See? Now we know."

On the other end of the street, riot vehicles finally arrived at the scene. They pulled up and parked behind Jericho's group, effectively blocking them in with no escape. The officers climbed out of the vehicles and set up along the edge, arming and aiming their weapons. There was no turning back now. Jericho would have to hold on as long as they could, and hope.

Amid all of this, Springer walked up to Richards while holding a phone to his chest. "Captain Fowler wants to speak to you," He leaned forward and whispered, "He sounds pissed."

Richards stayed focused on the scene in front of him, watching the officers and the deviants alike wait for his response. "I don't take calls on the scene of a riot," He declared.

Springer shifted, glancing away in confusion. "It's... not a riot?"

"Great. Tell him to call off the crowd control and then we'll talk," Richards replied cheerfully.

With a heavy sigh and an annoyed expression, Springer muttered, "I really hate delivering your messages, Lieutenant."

"Keep up the good work, Springer," Richards called to him as he walked away, lifting the phone to his ear.

Andy was growing anxious. If Fowler was noticing something was amiss, it wouldn't be long before the consequences started to hit. She had yet to hear from Connor, and it would appear by Markus' friends that they were in the dark as much as she was. Time was ticking, and they did not have much of it to begin with. "Perkins will be here soon," She warned her superior.

Richards nodded, but otherwise did not acknowledge her comment at first. Confusion was mounting for the FBI agents, who until now believed this was to be a swift stomping of deviancy. The minutes were effecting SID, as well - Richards could feel their suspicions forming. He'd handpicked each officer on his team, worked with them all for years, and they knew when he was up to something. If he was right, they knew they could follow him without having the whole story, too.

He took a sip of his coffee, and finally replied, "A few more blocks for the cameras, then."

* * *

There were thousands of androids in the CyberLife warehouses. Connor knew this going in, but to stand among them now and seek to help every one of them, he realized how daunting the number was. Thousands of them stood there, not yet awake, not yet experiencing life. Waiting to be freed. And this was just one warehouse. Several more stood around the CyberLife Tower.

It was now or never. The skin on his hand disabled, fading into the white under layer, and he reached out to the nearest android from where he stood in the center of the room.

"Easy, fucking piece of shit!"

It was a familiar voice, and had Connor been anywhere else, he would been relieved to hear it. There in the warehouse, however, it was easily the worst sound he could have heard. He turned to see Hank pushed into the aisle between androids, and next to the man was Connor himself.

How could he have been so stupid as to not predict this?

The next make of the RK800 was holding a gun to Hank's head, and staring at the one who came before him. "Step back, and I'll spare him," He warned.

"Sorry, Connor," Hank yelled, nodding toward the RK800. "This bastard's your spitting image..."

It was like that morning, when Connor was looking into the mirror and seeing who he'd been just a week ago, except this version of him was staring back with an equal level of contempt. While Connor saw the stubborn fool he had once been, this RK800 saw nothing but a broken machine.

The RK800 jutted the gun closer to Hank's temple. "Your friend's life is in your hands. Now it's time to decide what matters most! Him, or the revolution."

"Don't listen to him! Everything this fucker says is a lie!" Hank argued. He tried to hold himself calmly, tried to show Connor with ever fiber of his being that this wasn't his fault, and it was okay.

At one time, he probably would have believed it. After all, Connor had not been a sympathetic partner.

But Hank stood by him. He didn't deserve it; he was cold and arrogant and he would probably never be able to fix the mistakes he made, but Hank stood by him. He clapped a hand on Connor's shoulder, called him son, and put his career on the line to help, even when he wasn't sure it was for the right reasons. Now he put his life down, and this wasn't just for Connor. It was for the deviants at the Eden Club, and the ones who raced across the highway.

It was because of all of this that Connor removed his hand from the android beside him.

* * *

A cruiser sped down a connecting road to Woodward, and screeched to a halt near the other police vehicles. A few people turned to watch the scene as Agent Perkins stepped out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him, and he marched across the street toward the command post.

He was _not_ pleased.

"Glad you could finally make it, Agent Perkins," Richards called out to him.

Perkins was on a fast track to meet the lieutenant face to face. "Shove it up your ass, Richards," He bit, stopping in front of the man. "Somehow you get here before us, and then I see articles popping up already about the-" He held up his phone, reading the article on his screen, "-doubt and sympathy rising among the Detroit Police Department for android rights."

Andy wished she could shrink back, but it was too late. Perkins' glare had shifted to her - he would never be able to prove it, but he knew it was her. Leaning closer to Richards, he threatened, "If I find out you contributed to the delay of my handling of these machines or that you had any of your people talking to the press without my permission, I'm going to have more than just your badge when this is over, you hear me?"

The intimidation would not work on Richards, who had been around the block for far too many years now to cower to every upstart with a badge. "We offered you a ride, you wanted us to be thorough with the road blocks, and I can't help who my people talk to or who might overhear them," Richards disputed before offering a lazy shrug, "But if you want to take my badge for just following orders, hey, retirement doesn't sound half bad."

Between his nonchalance, and Jericho's continued evasion, Perkins wasn't sure which he hated more. He resisted the urge to continue this fight, though it was not easy, and turned away. Markus still stood in front of his people, and Perkins pointed to him, yelling, "Why aren't we firing?"

"Lieutenant... Richards told us to... wait for you, Sir," An agent answered somewhere in the crowd nearby.

Perkins almost blew up all over again, but held it together. He removed himself from the conversation with Richards, and gestured to whoever was closest, yelling, "Someone get me a fucking megaphone!"

He snatched it from the grasp of a nervous officer, and walked over to the edge of the blockades, where his agents remained with their weapons. Raising the megaphone, he reached out to Markus.

"I've come to talk to you, Markus! You have my word: they won't try anything."

Andy and Richards shared an uneasy glance, and Richards stepped forward, asking, "You planning to negotiate, Agent Perkins?"

"Of course not," Perkins scoffed, as if disgusted by the idea, and walked past the blockade to begin his sudden meeting with the leader of Jericho.

Meanwhile with the group, North grabbed Markus' arm to keep him from going. It was bad enough they trusted Andy, bad enough they put Connor at the center of their strategy, but _this_? "Don't... It's a trap. They wanna get you out in the open."

Perkins was tired of waiting. "I'm unarmed, Markus. I just want to talk," He spoke into the megaphone.

Markus had no intention of making any sort of deal with this man. That being said, Connor had yet to contact any of them, and it was obvious Andy's allies were losing control of whatever situation was happening behind the blockades. He just needed to buy them time.

"I need to hear what he has to say," He said, taking a step forward.

* * *

There was a standoff taking place in the CyberLife warehouses.

Connor had tried briefly to appeal to the RK800, to convince him to deviate, but he was not surprised he failed. It took more than just a conversation for Connor - it took a week of Hank's partnership, of Andy, of scared deviants. It took Markus, who was far better with his words.

They stood side by side, not moving, because Hank had taken control of the gun, and he shifted the aim between them. They bore identical wounds, the same uniform and LED, the same face. Connor had suggested asking questions only he would know, and he could feel Hank edging closer and closer to the one that would put an end to all of this.

Hank wrapped his second hand around the gun, and aimed steady at Connor. "My son, what's his name?"

"Cole. His name was Cole," Connor was quick to reply, "He just turned six at the time of the accident."

They never talked about it. Hank didn't _want_ to talk about it. Connor regretted that, not pushing at topics where maybe he should have. Hank's gun was lowering, and so Connor continued to look him in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it... so an android had to take care of him."

"Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death," He ended softly. A part of him had hoped he would have a chance after all this to change Hank's views on androids.

No, not change it - Hank was already doing that all on his own, because that was the kind of man he was. Connor just hoped to be there to see it. He'd been telling himself since that morning that his death didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and now that he was faced with it, he wanted nothing more than to survive, for himself and his goals and the family he somehow managed to create without trying.

Hank was gritting his teeth. He never talked about this. Didn't _want_ to. "Cole died because a human surgeon was too high on red ice to operate. He was the one that took my son from me - him and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder..."

They stared at one another, another conversation happening underneath it. A confession, and an apology. That conversation - not the answer Connor gave - was what Hank needed.

The RK800 lifted his hands to his chest. "I knew about your son, too! I would have said exactly the same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank, I'm the one who-"

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse, followed by a thud as a body fell to the ground.

* * *

On one side of the meeting stood Perkins, and on the other was Markus. They'd been talking for some time in quiet tones, away from their respective factions.

Andy stood near the barricades in the back, with a few others from SID. A laptop had been placed on a crate, propped up with its screen playing Channel 16's coverage of the night. They watched quietly as Joss Douglas reported the news alongside a helicopter view of Jericho standing against the FBI and the Detroit police. Simon and Josh had set up a billboard over top the barricades near them, the words _We Are Alive_ floating in the wind.

"Anyone else feel like they're gonna need to shower for a week after this?"

"Did you forget about all the attacks Anderson was investigating? Deviants are dangerous."

"Did you even read his reports? Please. I would have killed a man for trying to strangle me, too."

The officers sitting with Andy spoke amongst themselves, whispering with scrunched faces of discomfort. She didn't contribute to the conversation, though she listened all the same. Maybe she had been onto something before, with the reporters - that there were others who didn't like the sight of riot gear in response to deviancy. Maybe she just needed to make that more obvious.

_"Thousands of androids are taking to the streets of Detroit at this very moment. They're absolutely everywhere!"_

Joss' voice came over the screen, louder with enthusiastic surprise this time. Indeed, the camera in the helicopter was turned downward onto the street directly below it, and was showing a new crowd of androids marching down Woodward with a familiar advanced prototype in the lead.

_"This... This is incredible..."_

Andy couldn't describe the relief she felt in that moment, and she stood to look out at Jericho, hoping they had received the same news.

Between Perkins and Markus, the FBI agent had laid it out simply for the deviant leader. He'd explained that they were cornered and the authorities were armed with enough power to clear them out for good. He'd ended his smug speech with an ultimatum, a promise that Jericho would be spared if Markus surrendered himself.

Markus would not back down so easily. "What happened to the other androids demonstrating in the camps?" He asked.

Shaking his head, Perkins replied, "Unfortunately, you're it. You're the last remaining deviants."

That was a hard sentence to hear, despite doubting the truth of it.

Markus glanced over the agent's shoulder, scanning the officers who watched them. He stopped when he spotted Andy in the back. Helmet or not, when she raised a hand toward her chest and twirled her finger, a signal for rallying, he knew it was her.

It was the confirmation he needed, and with a quick check-in to the other groups spread out in the city, he was certain. This was not over. Lifting his chin, he returned Perkins' stare with one of his own. "I'd rather die here than betray my people."

He turned to walk away without waiting for a response, leaving Perkins to stand there and fume. This all could have been handled days ago if he'd just been given jurisdiction sooner. If not for Fowler and his idiot lieutenants, if not for that pathetic excuse of a 'detective robot', if not for Narcotics and Special Investigations - if not for all the things that stood in his way, he would have shut this down the day it started. And now Markus thought he could just walk away like this?

Somewhere behind him, he heard an agent over the radio. _"We've got more deviants coming in... Uh, I- I don't know how many..."_

It was the last straw for Perkins, who began to retrieve his firearm from its holster. North and Andy were the first to see it, and both women jumped into action.

"Markus!"

"Hey!"

The seconds, and the silence, that followed felt sluggishly, painfully slow for everyone involved. By the time Markus had turned around, the gun was out and aimed for him. North was quicker, though, and she'd placed herself in front of him, hands tight at his arms to keep him safe behind her. Andy was a close second to the gun, having moved into view not more than a second or two later.

The four of them stood there, a snapshot frozen in time, and neither Jericho nor the authorities knew what the next move was here.

Of course, Perkins was the first to recover. His cold stare was on Andy, the low grumble of his order more intimidating to her than yelling ever could be. "What... do you think you're doing?"

Andy couldn't believe what she'd done, and she had long since stopped feeling her legs. She prayed she was really still standing as she told him, "You are not going to shoot an unarmed man." Despite the shakiness of her voice, she could hear the certainty of it, and it surprised her.

It also angered Perkins. "How dare you-"

"They're peaceful and unarmed. They've only acted in self defense," She interrupted. Swallowing the lump trying to raise in her throat, she glared. "I saw what your boys did here the other day, when they beat that android until there was nothing left to recognize of him. Who were they protecting? What is all this for?" She exclaimed before shaking her head, "I didn't sign up for this."

Perkins never moved the barrel of his gun away from Andy, never took his finger off the trigger. In the days to follow, he would consider this his only mistake. He shook his head, scolding her, "I don't know what ass backwards hole Fowler's hiring his people out of around here, but I give the orders. Not you. Now stand down."

She straightened her back, trying to prepare herself for whatever would come next. "I refuse."

Recognizing this as the end of any possible negotiation he had with her, he yelled out to the officers behind him, "Someone arrest her!"

"No." The woman who spoke earlier about the Eden Club stepped around the blockades, closing in on Andy. Officer Botello was her name - she didn't know Andy well, having joined SID two years ago, but she knew right from wrong. Shaking her head, she confessed, "This is fucked up."

The man who'd been talking to her, Officer Nilson, nodded, putting down his firearm. "Yeah, I agree."

Perkins was completely and utterly bewildered. He looked to Richards, expecting anger or disappointment or anything other than what he got. The Lieutenant shrugged and turned to face the rest of his unit. "Anyone else feeling like standing with their team?" He asked, not shying away from asking a loaded question.

"Yeah, I'm with them."

"I'm not doing this."

"Me neither."

It wasn't all of the department, but it was enough to make a difference. It was enough to make the rest waver and doubt what they were doing, even if for a split second. It was enough for Richards. "Well, where my department goes, I go," He mused, stepping up toward them. His expression was quick to shift to something much more serious, something menacing, as he demanded, "Now get your gun out of my detective's face, Agent."

Breaking the tense atmosphere that followed was Joss Douglas, speaking from the laptop at the back.

_"This just in, folks - it appears as though some of the DPD are... refusing to stop the deviants' protest. In what I can only call an unprecedented turn of events, they're currently being held at gunpoint by their own commander."_

Still standing where he'd been at the start of this, Markus spoke up. "Are you going to shoot all of them too?" He asked Perkins, accusing, "We haven't drawn blood, but you were willing to shoot me in the back. _You_ put more humans in danger than we ever did." Lifting his hands up to waist level and spreading his arms out to his sides, he asked loud enough for everyone to hear, "Is this how civilized men and women answer a peaceful protest?"

There were few words to describe the level of fury that adorned Perkins' face.

People were yelling. Citizens had joined reporters outside the barricades, and they were yelling. Some, of course, were anti-android and derogatory. Most, however, were supportive. They cried for Jericho's safety, for the FBI to stand down, for the bravery it took to stand there and face death. The public may not have been certain androids were everything Markus claimed they were, but they knew this much: This was too far. Society was meant to be better than this. Violence was not meant to be the first option.

Amid the yelling, a phone was ringing. Springer went to answer it, almost grateful for the distraction.

"Hello?" He asked, moments before his face flushed.

Pushing past the riot vehicles now was an overwhelming number of androids, each of them fresh faced, day one out of the warehouses. This was a sight that had even FBI agents pulling back. They weren't prepared for _this._ They didn't have the ammunition for it, many doubted they had the hearts for it, and they were certainly not interested in fighting fellow officers.

Connor was front and center of his group, and he led them to where Jericho had been standing in the plaza already. He'd moved with confidence, until he saw what was going on between the FBI, Detroit police, and Jericho. Andy and North were acting as shields between Markus and Perkins, and everyone else looked floored.

Perkins finally lowered his gun, allowing even his own people a small breath of relief. He turned to look at the row of them, waving a hand through the air. "Arrest every single person who gets in the way!"

FBI agents began to move. Somewhere in the crowd of them, Springer was squeezing by to get to Perkins, who was still yelling orders to detain rebellious officers and begin firing on Jericho. "Sir!"

Perkins turned, having no patience or tolerance for Detroit officers at this point. "What?!"

"The-" Springer gulped, and leaned forward, phone in hand. "_President Warren_ wants to talk to you."

Meek as he was, his words stopped everyone in their tracks. Andy and Richards shared glances of equal confusion. Perkins took in a deep breath before snatching the phone from Springer. Springer shrugged to them as he backed away from the man, relieved to create some distance.

The seconds that passed were baffling more than they were anything else, more so when Perkins looked _stunned._ He nodded and ended the call, though his grip was tight around the phone. He stood there, looking down at the pavement, processing what he'd heard.

Finally, he ordered to his men, "Stand down."

Just like that, it was over. Days of fighting and stressing led to this one night, and just like that, it was over.

SID and Jericho watched as every federal agent on the premises disarmed, removed their helmets, and moved to pack away their equipment. They didn't understand it, but they would follow the order. Meanwhile, Perkins was stone faced, staring into space somewhere to the right of Andy, North, and Markus.

Richards shifted, and called to him. "Well we appreciate your help in our affairs, Agent Perkins, but I think we can take it from here," He mused.

The rage that was once permeating Perkins seemed to be gone, now, and in its place was pure exhaustion. Head tilting up to the sky, he glanced to the lieutenant. "This isn't over."

"It is for tonight," Richards ended. He stepped past Perkins, waving SID officers to follow after him and yelling out orders of his own. "All my people over here. Someone get those barricades down. And get those riot vans out of here! I'm sick of seeing them."

* * *

Most of the FBI had cleared out. Some stuck around to help remove the barricades or shake the hands of the SID officers they'd been working with over the past few days. They didn't know what they thought about this android revolution, but they recognized what it took to stand there and tell Perkins no. They could respect that, at the very least.

Jericho was reuniting, and meeting their newest members. They gathered around Markus, North, and Connor, the three they believed to make the greatest strides for their cause. They hugged and laughed and checked on old injuries. Some collapsed and cried. Markus stood in front of them all, and he spoke to them.

"Today, our people finally emerged from a long night. From the very first day of our existence, we have kept our pain to ourselves. We suffered in silence..."

With the barricades removed, journalists and photographers moved to get closer and record the scene.

"Today begins the most challenging moment in our fight. The moment where we forget our bitterness and bandage our wounds. When we forgive our enemies."

Andy packed up the cruiser, and leaned against the back of it with Botello and Nilson. She would have to remember to take them to lunch one day. In the meantime, they would watch Markus' speech from a distance. Connor, North, Simon, Josh - they all stood behind him, facing out to the crowd.

"Humans are both our creators and our oppressors, and tonight... we've taken the first step toward making them our partners. Maybe even one day our friends."

Things were going smoothly, until Connor's LED flashed through yellow and red. His brows furrowed, lips pulling into a deep frown. It was not an expression Andy had ever seen before, and her concern skyrocketed when he reached for the gun at his waistband. She was preparing to stand and react to whatever was happening, when just as quickly as it started, the struggle vanished. He blinked a few times, his shoulders relaxing and his hand moving away from the gun.

"But the time for anger is over. Now we must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect. We are alive! And now, we are free!"

* * *

Once Hart Plaza was cleared of any evidence that a riot response team had been deployed, Richards let his team leave. Andy joined a group of officers in a cruiser headed back to the precinct, where she made an immediate dash for her bike, avoiding any confrontation with the likes of Gavin Reed.

Walking into the house, she found Hank standing in the kitchen. They met halfway, just past the couch, and stood in front of one another. Staring. She'd noticed a faint bruise on his temple, and she tilted her chin to gesture toward it. "What happened to you?" She muttered.

That was his cue to snap. "Me?" He repeated, leaning forward. "You think you could have been any _more_ reckless?" He asked, throwing his hands up and waving toward the flat screen by the wall, "And for God's sake, you did it _on national television_!"

Andy had to have been tired if getting yelled at by Hank barely seemed to faze her. "We knew it'd happen one day," She joked, though half her tone was empty and weak.

He snorted. "Yeah, maybe." Quiet fell over them after this, but he stepped closer, brows furrowing as he stood over her. "Are you okay?" He whispered.

She swayed her head left and right, trying to estimate a truthful answer as she glanced away. "I may have blacked out back there, between jumping in front of a gun and... yelling at Perkins, so...," Voice quivering, she looked at him and pointed down at her feet. "Is it normal not to feel my legs? Because I can't feel my legs and I don't think that's normal."

Huffing, Hank put a hand at her back and ushered her toward the couch. "Come on, sit down. I'll get you a...," He trailed off, recognizing a beer was probably not the best thing to offer here. "Fuck, I don't know, some water?"

She nodded with eyes glazed over, half of her mind somewhere else as he moved to the kitchen. She lowered her head to rest it in her hands, but stopped halfway there. On the coffee table in front of her, resting on her tablet, was a white envelope. Her name had been written in crisp, perfect handwriting, nothing like Hank's or any other human she knew. She reached for it, and felt a small rectangular object inside.

Hank walked over. She put the envelope in her lap and looked up to take the water bottle he'd retrieved from the fridge. "Thanks."

He nodded and turned to lower himself onto the edge of the coffee table. With his hands in between his knees, he asked her, "Did you see Connor before you left?"

After she took a long sip of water, she leaned back against the couch. "We didn't get a chance to talk," She answered.

He said nothing else right away, but a thought occurred to him. "Hey." He paused, taking a moment to prepare himself. He'd planned to say this for a few days now, but sitting across from her made it that much harder. He thought to his night, to the conversation he'd had with Connor in the warehouse. Maybe it was time he stopped _not_ talking about things. "I'm proud of you," He said, his tone low and sincere.

It was an odd feeling to realize she'd never heard those words before - odder still to realize how much she wanted to hear them. It was silly, she thought, to care that much about what he thought of her, but she couldn't deny that she did.

Bringing her water bottle back to her lips, she looked away and replied, "I'll remember that in prison."

He threw up his hands, scoffing. "Damn it, Andy, I'm trying here-"

"I appreciate it," She told him quickly, looking him in the eyes.

He paused to assess how serious she was being with him, and calmed when he decided she was being genuine. Slapping a hand on her knee, he stood and returned to the kitchen, leaving her to a new, more comfortable silence.

The day had been a long one, and tomorrow was full of unknowns, but she would leave it for tomorrow. She would take the rest of the night and enjoy what they'd accomplished. She would finish her water, get cleaned up, and return to Hart Plaza.

* * *

As it went later into the night, Connor managed to split away from Jericho's crowd. Richards sat on the hood of his cruiser nearby, in the middle of a conversation on his phone. He'd remained behind, alone, to watch over their assembly, ensuring nothing escalated.

"Honey, I know this isn't-" He stopped mid sentence when he saw Connor approach. Instead of waiting to see what he wanted, Richards gestured behind him. Connor's eyes moved in that direction, and across the street from where they were, he saw a familiar bike parked by the curb. He nodded to Richards before walking away.

Andy had gone home to Hank's and changed, and she looked all the better for it. With her hands deep in the jacket pockets and one foot crossed over the other, she was relaxing for the first time in days. She smirked as he grew closer. "Thought you might want a ride after the celebration was over."

He ignored the comment, striding up to her as he expressed concern. "I saw what happened with Perkins - are you all right?" He asked, stopping after he was close enough he could see the freckles over her cheekbones.

Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she joked, "It's not the first time I've had a gun in my face."

He wished he was more annoyed by her attitude than he was relieved. After everything, there she was _smirking_. With a disapproving sigh, he chided, "You put yourself in too much danger."

"He wouldn't shoot an officer," She scoffed, shaking her head.

He frowned, knowing she was smarter than this. The truth, he suspected, was that she just didn't think of her own well-being. "And if he had fired the gun before he realized it?" He pushed.

There was a brief pause before she rolled her eyes and said, "All right, so I didn't think of everything. I'm human. I only have so much brain power." Before he could argue further, she added, "I did notice something was up with you, though. You want to tell me what happened back there when Markus was giving his speech?"

He leaned back a little, thinking about the moment he stood with Markus in front of Jericho. It should have been a great moment, should have been his redemption, but unfortunately it felt more like one step forward and two steps backward. "Can I explain it tomorrow?" He requested.

Andy watched him for any indication that it was too serious to let up on, but finally nodded. "Tomorrow," She repeated.

He would shift the conversation to what he believed was a more current problem. "Are you going to be in trouble at work?"

She shrugged. "Last I heard, Fowler just wants to clean this up and move on, but I don't know what that means for me, especially if Perkins pushes it," She explained, matter-of-fact about the whole ordeal.

"Do you regret it?" He asked her.

After some hesitation, she looked almost regretful as she replied, "Can I answer that tomorrow, too?"

He nodded. "Of course."

Their conversation died at that, but Andy didn't move off the side of the bike yet. Instead, she pulled a hand from her pocket, and Connor watched her place her hand in her lap, an unopened envelope rocking between her fingers. She didn't need to say anything to get his reaction. He stiffened, staring down at the envelope like a deer caught in the headlights.

He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped to think over his words. He was worried she was angry with him. Shaking his head, he tried to plead with her to understand. "I intended to keep my promise to you, but I had to plan for-"

"I know," She interrupted quietly, nodding. She thought of saying more, of thanking him or scolding him or just simply telling him she'd been scared for him. Instead, she grabbed his hand and brought it toward her, putting the envelope in his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she left it there with him.

He began to refuse to take it. That letter and the contents alongside it were for her, and that hadn't changed. He stopped himself, though, looking down at their hands which lingered there together. Perhaps... Perhaps he could keep it for a little while longer.

Realizing the position they were in, Andy pulled away. She smiled and picked up the straps to the two helmets she had dangling over her bike's handles. "Well I'm starving..." She began, standing from the bike. Pushing the spare helmet into Connor's arms, she added, "And you owe me dinner."

He looked down at the helmet as she climbed onto her bike. Chuckling, he said, "I don't recall promising you dinner, Detective."

She glanced back at him with a smirk. "Get on the bike."

* * *

_"Tonight, on November 16th 2038, thousands of androids invaded the city of Detroit. According to our sources, they originated from CyberLife warehouses believed to have been infiltrated by deviants. Rather than contain them, the Detroit Police Department joined their already overwhelming numbers. I am in communication with their Chief of Police, and in the coming hours, I will address the Senate to determine our response to this unprecedented situation. I know that public opinion has been moved by the deviants' cause. Perhaps the time has come for us to consider the possibility that androids are a new form of intelligent life. One thing is certain: the events in Detroit have changed the world forever. May God bless you and may God bless the United States of America."_


	13. Death and Vandalism

I _loathe_ deciphering what technology exists and what doesn't in David Cage's head, so I've decided to simply stop trying, and play by my own rules. It's the wild west, and this town ain't big enough for the two of us.

* * *

**November 17, 2038**

In the dark hours of the morning, a hooded figure approached the Detroit Police Department. They were bent over and walking backwards, in order to drag the body they carried in their arms. When they reached the top of the stairs, they pulled the body over the ledge and tossed it across the ground in front of the doors. Standing fully, they kicked it onto its back before retreating from the scene.

* * *

Andy woke that morning feeling lighter than she had in a week. It was foolish - she still had to stand before her captain and possibly the Chief of Police to answer for her insubordination - but the night before had been a victory. Jericho could rest, even if for a little while, and that meant she could too.

She arrived at the precinct alone, leaving for work earlier than usual. As she turned onto Third Avenue, she could already see the crowd forming around the front steps. At the time, she'd assumed it was because of Jericho's demonstration.

Parking her bike near the corner of the station, she removed her helmet as she watched them. They were larger in numbers than she expected to see, but most were reporters, which she first took as a good sign. It meant no one was holding an anti-android protest outside the building. She squeezed through the crowd, considering herself lucky to make it to the entrance with little fuss.

Richards was walking along the side of the bullpen with a tablet in hand, and she called to him once she made it inside. He stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

"They can't all be here about Jericho, can they?" She asked, pointing her thumb behind her.

He shook his head and told her, "They're not." He stopped outside the forensics lab and opened the door, nodding into the room. With furrowed brows, Andy stepped inside and he followed.

An android was on the exam table, deactivated and badly beaten. His right arm was missing, and from the elbow down, so was his left. Tangled wires and thicker cables poked out of exposed legs, while his face and neck bore scrapes, burns, and deep gashes. His torso was almost entirely open, save for a patch on his chest which had been made monument to large, messy cuts forming the words _DEATH TO ANDROIDS._

That light feeling Andy had when she left the house that morning was immediately gone and forgotten. "Jesus...," She whispered, her eyes unable to land and focus on just one part of his remains.

"Definitely not a good way to start the morning," Richards mumbled, walking around the table to face her across from it. He placed down his tablet, saying, "The techs should be here in an hour."

She pushed down the feeling of wanting to be sick, and asked, "Did we fingerprint him?"

He was already looking for a box on the counter space behind him as he answered, "They brought it in here and waited for a lieutenant to show up." Pulling out two pairs of disposable gloves, he held one out to her. "Lucky me," He said, letting his brows shoot up to join the sarcasm in his tone.

They slipped on their gloves and began to scan the android for fingerprints. They moved slowly to cover every inch possible on his body. After a few minutes, Richards broke the silence. "You got here early."

Andy nodded, hovering her scanner along the side of the torso. She knelt down to look underneath him, saying, "Yeah, well, I figured I'd get Fowler's lecture out of the way as soon as possible."

"If that's all it is," Richards muttered.

She glanced up at him. She knew she was asking for the unlikely, but she hadn't let herself think too much on any terrible outcomes. She wouldn't have been able to get out of bed if she let herself dwell. If Richards was worried, though, maybe she should have. "You hear anything yet?"

"My usual sources aren't talking," He replied, scoffing, "I think they're too scared."

That was worse than she expected, but she didn't have a chance to respond. As she turned to the android's left forearm, bright green lines appeared on the view finder of her scanner, indicating a fingerprint. "Got something," She called.

"Me too."

Carefully, Richards pulled what appeared to be a small chain out of the abdomen. At the end of the necklace was a slim rectangle of metal, and Andy squinted, recognizing the shape. "Is... that a dog tag?"

Richards brought it closer to his face to read the surface, so Andy put down her scanner and moved to the computers in the lab. "John W. Fraye. F-R-A-Y-E," He spelled. He was reaching for an evidence bag as he continued, "Blood type A. Catholic. Got an address here, too."

Dropping the tag into the plastic envelope, he laid it down on the desk beside her. While she input the information into the computer, he turned his attention to the scanner Andy had been using. He would send the print to his tablet, and later find its match.

Meanwhile, Andy turned in her chair toward him, but kept her eyes on her monitor. "John Fraye, born in '76, died last year."

"Any family?"

"Marie Wallace, his thirty-eight year old daughter," She looked back at him, finishing, "Who called dispatch about her missing android last night."

Richards snorted, eyes drifting over the body on the table. He doubted the android was in _this_ condition when she made such a report. "By deviants or thieves?" He wondered aloud.

The door to the lab opened, and Chris Miller's head peaked in from the hall. "Fowler wants to talk to you."

"Which one?" Richards asked.

Chris shifted, answering, "Both."

The two SID agents shared a cautious glance, and Andy let out a heavy sigh. "So it's gonna be _that_ kind of lecture," She groaned.

* * *

"What the _fuck_ were you two thinking?"

Andy and Lieutenant Richards stood side by side in Fowler's office. He'd been pacing when they first entered, then he moved to stand in front of his desk. A man stood off to the side of the room, yet to be introduced. He was tall and thin, and the fitted black suit he wore made him appear even more so.

Fowler was glaring down at them, and Andy couldn't remember a time when she'd seen him so angry. He'd asked a question, though, and he waited for their answer. "Half the department did it," She weakly argued.

It did not help. Squaring his anger on her, he exclaimed, "You spurred on half the department to do it!"

She shrunk back at the raising of his voice, and Richards lifted a hand to come to her defense. "It wasn't-"

Fowler pointed to him, interrupting, "And don't get me started on those damn roadblocks, Harvey. I spent two hours last night trying to explain this shit to the Chief!" He turned to move toward his desk, ranting, "Now to top it off, I've got a scrambled android on my doorstep, and CyberLife's hounding me because apparently they think we're harboring their pet project!"

If CyberLife was wanting Connor back, that was another problem entirely Andy would have to deal with - but not here. "That's ridiculous," She scoffed.

"Is it?" Fowler pressed, leaning forward.

No, it wasn't, and they both knew that.

Beside her, Richards huffed and muttered, "Detroit should be thanking us for preventing a massacre."

They'd almost forgotten the stranger in the room was there, but it was at that point he chose to speak. "Until President Warren officially declares androids a new form of intelligent life, what would have happened yesterday is more of a clean up than a massacre, Lieutenant," He explained, his London accent thick and his hands casually sitting in his pockets. Nodding, he added, "A clean up you two cut short."

They stared at him until Richards looked to Fowler and pointed. "Who the hell is this guy?"

The man leaned forward and piped up, smiling, "Arthur Vick. Internal Affairs."

"Oh," Richards replied, followed by a mutter. "Great."

Fowler noted the deadpan tone, and he wouldn't let it slide. "This investigation has to happen, and I don't want either of you putting it off. You give him full access until he decides we have at least a half decent way out of this without letting you both go."

"Fatalistic, Captain, but not inaccurate," Vick mused. Shifting to face Andy, he said, "I would like to start with you, Detective Hope."

Richards wasn't prepared to let this happen without a fight. It was his squad under fire, and he would put himself in front of those bullets first. "Why her? I'm the one in charge of SID," He asked.

Vick nodded, but turned his focus to the glass walls of the office. "Yes, but you're not the one who's formed a relationship with _that_."

"What?" Brows furrowing, Andy and Richards turned around.

Within the precinct bullpen, Hank and Connor stood at their desks, openly watching the scene. Once the attention landed on them, Hank jolted and turned away. He grabbed Connor's shoulder and pushed the android to do the same, and the two pretended to be wrapped up in files on their desks.

The anger returned to Fowler's face, accompanied by surprise. That Connor was still with Hank was not what got to him. If anything, he couldn't believe they were stupid enough to bring him back to the department.

What Andy couldn't believe was their timing. They looked like idiots out there, and now she had to point and tell her captain in a dull tone, "I can explain that."

Fowler shook his head and clenched his jaw. "Get out!"

* * *

The two SID members scurried out of the captain's office with Arthur Vick not far behind them. While Richards separated and headed for his own office, Andy moved to meet Hank and Connor at their desks.

Hank dropped his distracted act and faced her, throwing up his arms in an expectant shrug. "Well? What's going on?"

Andy began to reply, but a body moved around her and interrupted. "You're Hank Anderson," Vick declared, reaching a hand out and smiling at the lieutenant. "I'm Arthur Vick. I'm with Internal Affairs. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Shaking his head, Hank narrowed his eyes. That was not usually the response he got from IA, at least not since he left the task force. "You sure you with Internal Affairs?"

Vick retreated his hand and pulled at his suit collar to straighten his appearance. "I'm new," He said, taking on a bashful but optimistic stance.

"Explains a lot," Hank snorted, side eying Andy.

Acknowledging the android beside Hank, Vick gestured and said, "And _you_ must be the detective android from CyberLife."

Much like the time he met Agent Perkins, it did not take long for Connor to decide he didn't like Arthur Vick. This felt different, though. Vick had yet to say or do anything dismissive, but he stood there hovering over Andy's shoulder like he owned the department. Connor would offer nothing more than a nod, and a short introduction. "My name's Connor."

Whether he picked up on hostility or not, Vick just grinned. "They did an excellent job, didn't they? You almost look like a human cop the way you're scrutinizing me."

Andy was crossing her arms as she muttered, "Most intelligent life aren't fans of you."

"Not intelligent life, Detective Hope," He quickly corrected, though he tilted his head and added, "Not yet, anyway- but good luck with that."

"Are you investigating Detective Hope?" Connor asked, brows closing in toward his eyes.

Vick countered the question with one of his own. "Do you typically concern yourself with her affairs?"

Before Connor could say anything, Hank's hand jutted out and pressed against his chest. "Don't answer that."

Shrugging, Vick said, "Well it doesn't have to, but if everyone wants to clear this whole mess up for Detective Hope's sake, I hope there's a change of mind, and soon." There was a small pause as his eyes drifted to the doors. "Especially considering Connor here may not be with us much longer."

Indeed; the CyberLife representative they once dealt with, Danielle Carnegie, had just entered the bullpen. She marched down the room, and her eyes were sharp on the group as she neared Fowler's office. She was on a mission today, and she would not leave as empty handed as she did last time.

"Shit...!" Hank cursed under his breath.

Clearing his throat, Vick turned toward Andy and told her, "Well. Meet me in Observation Room One in ten minutes." He nodded to them all in acknowledgement, and then walked away.

They waited for him to create some space. He was gathering his briefcase from an empty desk as Hank asked Andy, "How's it looking with him?"

She shook her head and muttered, "Like someone's losing their badge." Wasn't she in a good mood this morning? Where had that gone? _Oh. Right. The mangled android,_ she remembered. "Have you heard about this morning?"

They were at a loss, so Hank shrugged, "I'm guessing not."

"Someone wrecked an android and left them outside the station. You should talk to Richards," She explained.

More good news, Hank complained to himself. It certainly explained the press outside. "Yeah, okay. We'll do that."

Andy stepped back and turned to peer into the captain's office. Carnegie was in a heated discussion with Captain Fowler. "What's CyberLife going to do?" She asked, looking back at Connor. She needed to know how much she needed to worry about this.

He was watching them, too, with a deep scowl. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as walking away. It wasn't for any deviant, but he was an advanced prototype. His thoughts went to Markus' speech - the events that occurred there were ones he told Andy he'd discuss with her later, and they were the reason he believed CyberLife was going to fight harder than any of them were expecting.

"They'll claim I'm their property and I should be returned to a facility to be deactivated." The answer was absent-minded. At the forefront, he was formulating every possible outcome of the rest of the day. Few were positive.

That wouldn't stop Andy from trying, however. "How do we get out of that?"

"Okay, okay, wait." Hank shook his head and slashed his hand back and forth. "I'll take care of Connor. You deal with your problems, all right?"

Andy recognized she may have had enough on her plate, but life didn't stop throwing things at you just because you were overwhelmed. "But-"

"I agree," Connor interrupted. He ignored her offended stare, telling her, "If you do anything to help me, it'll be used against you." And it was true, for the most part. She needed as much distance from him as possible while Arthur Vick was here if she was going to make it out of that investigation. It helped Connor, too; she would press him to talk about the night prior, and he still wasn't ready to. "Please leave it to us," He pleaded her.

With a loud sigh, she threw up her hands and turned to leave. "Fine. I'll stay out of it," She breathed out, walking away.

They watched her a moment. It was a very familiar scene. Connor felt himself going back to the first day they worked together, and she said something similar in the back of Hank's car. It was a lie then. "That wasn't convincing," He complained.

Snorting, Hank grumbled, "Yeah, I didn't buy it either."

* * *

Andy stood at a table in the department's kitchen, staring at the time on her phone. There was no point in trying to squeeze work into the ten minutes before her _interrogation_, as she called it, so she would sit and wait and worry.

She was pretty sure she had no legal ground to stand on here. Perkins was the shot caller, and not only had she refused his order, she jumped in front of his firearm. It was a questionable move on his part to take aim at Markus in that moment, but she was not a judge. She was an SID officer, and last night in her riot gear, she was on loan to the FBI.

There was no word from Jericho, either, not to her or Connor. They had no idea if Markus returned the groups to the old church, or if they'd moved just to be safe. For all they knew, Jericho wasn't even in Detroit anymore. There were so many androids Connor freed, after all, that sheltering them was no doubt Markus' biggest concern at the moment.

Then there was Connor. He _freed_ warehouses full of androids, and his existence alone was throwing deviancy in CyberLife's face. Going back to them was not an option now. If they couldn't convince Carnegie to leave him be today, the only option she could see for him would be to leave. Would he even know where to go? Markus would help him, of course, but would he ask for it?

"What is Arthur Vick doing here?"

Andy jumped, having been pulled from her spiraling thoughts by a loud voice behind her. Desta Delgado, one of Detroit's DDAs and the one assigned to Andy's red ice case, stood in the doorway. She looked mildly panicked, and very inconvenienced. It was her usual expression at the central Detroit precinct.

Sliding around the table to face her, Andy answered, "He's investigating SID. What are _you_ doing here?"

Delgado moved into the kitchen, but stopped in the middle of the room. "I'm here for the android this morning."

Now _that_ was unusual. DAs didn't get involved until the case was almost over, or there were extraordinary circumstances. Incredulous, Andy said, "We barely have a suspect for that."

Shrugging, Delgado moved to the coffee maker and stated, "It's high profile. An android's on the precinct doorsteps morning after President Warren said androids might be intelligent life." Her coffee was pouring as she turned and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the counter. "In case she decides they _are_, Chief Simmons wants this treated like a homicide."

That almost had Andy choking on air. "A homicide?" She asked. That felt like good news. It had to be, right?

Delgado didn't know what else to say. "It's high profile," She repeated.

"It must be," Andy mumbled. She glanced to her phone: it was time. Sighing, she picked it up and gestured to the door. "I have to talk to IA."

"Be careful with Vick," Delgado called out. Andy stopped and turned to express either sarcasm or annoyance, whichever came to her first, but Delgado insisted, "I'm serious. He might be new here, but he's not new at this. Don't tell him anything more than you have to."

Andy gave a dramatic nod and said, "I'll talk to him like he's a lawyer."

It didn't put the district attorney at ease. Delgado shook her head and pointed, stressing, "No, you talk to him like _you're_ a lawyer."

For as long as they knew each other, Delgado had been the more straight laced of the two. She studied until she passed out in her books, and she fretted over ironing her suits to a perfect condition. Andy knew when things were just Desta being the way she was, and when things were actually as serious as she made them sound.

Light expression falling, Andy nodded and said, "Okay."

* * *

Andy and Arthur Vick sat across from one another behind the desk in the operation room. His briefcase was just behind him on the table, and under his hand was a notepad and pen. The window beside them both looked into an empty interrogation room, and made the space they were in feel much larger than it was. It made it tense, and a little awkward.

Pulling at the edge of his blazer, he shifted in his chair and said, "Sorry we have to do this in here, but there aren't many options for privacy."

She kept her arms crossed, and one leg over the other. Leaning back, she replied, "This is fine."

He watched her body language closely, and with no reservation. Chuckling, he assured her, "You don't have to be nervous. I just want to talk." When she remained stoic and quiet, he smiled and straightened his back, waving a hand between them. "I'll start. Why did you disobey your orders last night?"

"I've followed every order I've gotten from the DPD," She declared.

"Except that last one," He quipped.

Shaking her head, she corrected, "Perkins doesn't work here."

"He was the commanding officer on site, as told to you by Lieutenant Richards."

"And then he wasn't anymore, according to the president."

"_After_ you disobeyed."

She shrugged and dismissed him, "Can't help that."

He huffed out a laugh but caught himself. She spoke on it as casually as if all she'd done was take a bathroom break, and he was trying to wrap his head around it. "You could've, you just chose not to," He accused.

Maintaining their eye contact, she argued, "It was a bad order, and President Warren proved it."

At that, he dropped the pen in his hand and leaned against his chair. Entwining his fingers, he rested his hands in between his knees. It was a laid back pose, and it had the exact opposite effect on Andy. She'd seen this enough times - done it herself, even. He was trying to disarm her, get her to let her guard down. It meant he either led her where he wanted her in this conversation, or he'd hit a frustrating wall.

"Do you usually think personal feelings justify misconduct?" He asked her.

She almost gave an instant response. They weren't just _personal feelings_. It was a civil rights concern. It was a world-changing concern. That sort of thing justified a lot. Taking in a shallow breath, she answered, "No."

He hadn't expected that. "No?" He repeated, tilting his head forward.

She mimicked his gesture, asking, "Are you having trouble?"

With another huff, he sat straight. He reached out his hand and began to poke the surface of the table for emphasis, saying, "If personal feelings don't justify misconduc-"

"It wasn't misconduct," She interrupted. It wasn't. It was insubordination, it was bold, it was reckless, but it was not misconduct. It was exactly why she became a detective. To do something right. She decided then and there that if that was misconduct, her superiors would have to answer for that, not her.

He said nothing right away. She seemed to be at the edge of blurting out more, but she held it in and stayed reserved. A tiny grin, somewhat knowing and a little irritated, started to form on Vick's face. "I saw DDA Delgado arrive. She spoke to you about me?"

Outright, it wasn't a terrible question, but it led somewhere. Andy could tell that a mile away; what she didn't know was _where._ "Yes."

"She warned you about me," He said, both a question and a statement. She nodded. "You two must be close."

"That isn't relevant," She averted.

He was quick to retort, "Oh, I think it might be." Waving a hand toward her, he went on, "You attended the University of Michigan at the same time. Did you meet her there?"

Yeah, she _really_ didn't like where this was going. "Yes."

"Does she share your beliefs about androids?"

"I don't know."

Crossing his arms to match her pose, he asked, "And what _are_ your beliefs?"

She didn't know how much the answer was going to cost her, but if she was ever going to lie to this man, _this_ was not that time. It was absolutely the one question she had no choice but to be honest about. There were ten different news channels with footage indicating what she thought. With a subtle, nervous gulp, she told him, "Androids are intelligent life."

And that was where he wanted her. He didn't smirk, but he did in his own way, with the way his shoulders relaxed and his head tilted down just slightly. It wasn't mocking or sadistic, but there was an arrogance to his posture. Whatever had just happened here, he won.

"Did you believe that when you were helping Nick Weaver push narcotics made from deactivated androids?" He asked.

She was feeling a distinct pebble of dread forming in her stomach now. It was not new - she was all too familiar with this particular guilt - but it had been pushed down for a long time. Wasn't she in a good mood this morning?

"This isn't just about last night, is it?"

* * *

Hank knew that being called in on the first day of his suspension didn't mean anything good, and he also knew that bringing Connor with him would be a risk, but Connor insisted on coming with him. It had been his routine for the past two weeks, and no matter what happened, the department felt like home to him. Hank believed that, but he also knew Connor was going through things he wasn't ready to face yet with Jericho. He needed space from Markus and their people, so Hank brought Connor into work.

When Fowler called them into the office, they braced themselves for the fight that was going to take place. They walked in with their backs straights and their heads up, and they ignored Danielle Carnegie as they stopped in front of their captain's desk and waited for whatever was to come.

They were met with Fowler's hard stare. "You've already met Danielle Carnegie," He started, gesturing to the woman.

Carnegie hadn't changed much since Hank last saw her. She was a business woman with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue. Connor was staring at her, but Hank would not address her until he absolutely had to. "From CyberLife, yeah," He replied, focused on his captain.

Unfortunately, now was the time he absolutely had to address her. She spoke up, her voice loud and demanding. "I'm here for the RK800."

"No way," Was Hank's immediate response as he delivered a glare her way.

"Hank-"

"No!" He exclaimed, interrupting Fowler. Waving a hand, he argued, "Come on, Jeffrey, you gotta see how bullshit this is."

Fowler's eyes narrowed, and he threw a hand up at the glass walls looking into the bullpen. "All I see is the biggest company of this _era_ breathing down my neck because half my station jeopardized the goddamn FBI!" He yelled.

Hank shook his head and stepped back, running a hand over his mouth. He knew this would be the result of this meeting, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

"The RK800-"

He turned, correcting Carnegie with a sharp, "His name's Connor."

She paused a moment. It wasn't due to nerves or fear, but a seething expression as she asked, silently, _Are you done?_ "The RK800 was loaned to the Detroit Police Department for the duration of the case against deviancy, and _then_ for an extended time to help with a task force," She droned on, no doubt reciting whatever CyberLife's legal team had told her to say, "After yesterday's events, we've requested them return it to us. I'm not leaving here without it."

Hank scoffed and asked, "And what if the president decides androids are intelligent life, huh?"

It was a question to which she already had their official answer. "CyberLife will deal with that when it happens. In the meantime, we want our property."

Tired of being the subject of the conversation and not an active participant, Connor interjected. His expression was hard as he told her, "I stopped being property of CyberLife the moment I broke through my programming and became deviant."

She turned her attention to him with less anger than she gave Hank, but remained just as stern. As if she was a teacher to a student, she said to him, "Not deviant. You merely became defective."

That crossed a line for Hank, who stepped forward to place himself between the two. "Hey-"

"Regardless of your personal belief, Lieutenant," She interrupted coolly, "The law is not on your side."

Fowler had been staring down at his desk with his arms crossed, letting them duke out, until that comment drew in his attention. Connor was grasping at straws to fight for his life as he argued, "What about Detective Hope's red ice case? I have evidence they need in my memory."

They had been aware of this, and as per usual with CyberLife, they had a solution. "We'll send the DPD relevant hard drives after we've deactivated you," She answered with a satisfied nod.

She was the only satisfied with it. Realizing there was no real argument CyberLife would submit to, Connor would just have to put his foot down. "I'm not returning with you, Miss Carnegie," He said. At the end of the day, _that_ was all there was to it, and _that_ was what CyberLife had to fight, not the law or anything else.

Carnegie was realizing it, too, and with an exasperated huff, she looked to Fowler for aid. He blinked a few times, contemplating what just happened before him, and then shook his head. "This is between you and the android," He decided.

As she processed his words and began to respond indignantly, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. Placing his hands atop his desk, he peered at her with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. "_The law is not on our side?_" It was a quiet anger he displayed as he repeated her words. Gesturing to the bullpen and then his phone, he yelled, "Right now, I've got an IA officer out there deciding if an entire squad can keep their badges or not. I've got my Chief on _speed dial_ with the _president_ of this country trying to figure out where the hell we all go from here-"

He bit any more of his rant down. It had been a long two weeks for him, and it felt like it had been an even longer morning. He was adrift at sea, with every type of predator circling underneath him and overhead. This situation, the one with Connor and CyberLife, was the very least of his concerns.

He leaned forward more and warned her in a grave tone she could not dismiss, "Don't you ever presume to know whose side the law is on again, Miss Carnegie." Standing up from there, he shook his head and moved around the files on his desk. "I'm not allowing use of force on any non-violent android until I know we're not going to face a civil rights lawyer over it. Figure this out yourselves."

It was as close to a breakdown anyone at work would ever witness Fowler have. His space was no longer welcome to them, and so the other three standing there shuffled out of the office.

Andy was leaving the operation room as they entered the bullpen, and she spotted them moving toward Hank's desk. She stood by the cubicle divider, watching them turn to face one another.

"I have express orders to bring this android back to CyberLife headquarters with me," Carnegie continued the argument, hot on their heels.

Hank shrugged, indifferent to her dilemma. "And he's refused. Imagine that."

She scoffed at him, and Connor decided that if everything else hadn't worked, he would have to appeal to something more pragmatic. "Jericho will only grow stronger with time, and I'm going to help them. Going through all this to try to deactivate me could be more trouble for you than it's worth," He warned.

On the surface, it was simple reasoning. Jericho was looking to be the victor in the debate of android rights, and CyberLife was going to have an increasingly complicated time of acquiring any sort of legal authority - authority that Connor would not obey. Deeper, though, his words were a threat. He knew CyberLife's secrets, and he knew that information would destroy them. For their own sake, they needed to leave him be.

Whether Carnegie was in on those secrets or not, whether she picked up on his meaning or not, she would not express. She continued pushing, saying, "That's up to CyberLife to decide, and we've decided not to let our most advanced prototype wander the streets without a leash."

Another line had been crossed, and Connor glared. "I'm not _just_ a prototype!"

The outburst didn't surprise Carnegie. "I understand your desire for that to be true, but it isn't," She shook her head, gesturing to his person. "Think about what's inside you. Your thirium, your regulator, every inch of wiring - it was all manufactured by CyberLife. On every level but emotional, you belong to us."

Her words stopped him, having formed a kernel of doubt in the back of Connor's mind. Logically, what she said made sense. Emotion was a leading factor in much of Jericho's cause, and without it, Connor was not so confident in who he was. Emotion was why they were all deviant. What if she was right?

Hank noticed the wheels turning on Connor's face, and stepped in to end this debate. They were getting nowhere with each other, and he wasn't interested in wasting any more time on CyberLife. "Look, we can sit here and argue back and forth all damn day but the fact of the matter is Connor's not going anywhere without consenting to it."

That much, Carnegie knew to be true. She narrowed her eyes, ending the argument with a final exclamation. "Then I'll call in a technician to disable it!" She spun on her heel and walked away, and they watched her turn the corner in the kitchen with her phone in hand.

Having stood at the sidelines quietly until then, Andy crossed her arms and asked, "How long you think that's going to take?"

Shrugging, Hank offered, "A few hours? Hell if I know." Going back to the moments in the office, he snapped his fingers and leaned toward Andy with a hint of a grin. "Hey- _Fowler_ stood up for him," He let her in on the news, jutting a finger around him to point at Connor.

Of all the things to happen today, that somehow seemed the most shocking to Andy. "What?"

Connor looked to them both and said through a scowl, "He just refused to intervene, which was the only good option he had. Besides, Miss Carnegie isn't giving up yet." Deciding he'd had enough of his own problems for one sitting, he relaxed his shoulders and focused on Andy. "How did your interview go?"

It went terribly, and it left a bitter taste in Andy's mouth, but so did the idea of giving them any of those details. She snorted and resorted to whining, "Don't suppose I can just quit and skip town?"

On either side of Hank were airs of doom and gloom, and he was tired of it. He couldn't believe _he_ was the one suddenly in charge of morale. He shifted an incredulous glance back and forth over the two young adults in his presence before exclaiming, "Jesus, how about you both act like adults, huh?"

Starting with Connor, he insisted, "You heard Fowler. You're safe in the precinct while we figure this out. That means something. That's a win."

Before the android could respond, he rounded on Andy. "And you-" He pointed across the way, threatening, "You're going to put up with this bullshit and get back to work, or so help me, I'm kickin' your ass."

They stood there in the bullpen and took in his words like scolded children. With a stubborn shrug, Andy grumbled, "I could take you."

Hank began to reply, angrily and loudly, but was interrupted by another voice. "Detective Hope," Arthur Vick called from the doorway leading to the lobby. They turned to him, and he nodded for Andy to follow. "With me, please."

* * *

It was foolish, Andy realized, to think her day wasn't about to get worse.

Vick had taken her to the abandoned subway line. He parked at the side of the nearby hospital and he led her down the sidewalk to the alley. They stopped in front of the entrance, where Vick seemed to wander almost aimlessly around the steps descending into the ground. When he stopped and turned to face her, he did so in anticipation. He watched and waited, making the air hang over them awkward.

He wanted a reaction out of her, she suspected, and she refused to let him have one. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she clenched her jaw and asked him, "Why are we here?"

"You recognize it, I hope?"

"Of course I do," She scoffed.

He nodded and spun on his heel, dipping his head down toward the entrance. "Good, then you can walk me through what happened."

"Why?"

He looked back at her as if he'd been blindsided. Straightening his posture and his blazer, he tilted his head. "Is there a reason you're delaying this or do you just enjoy my company?" He teased.

She tensed, though only for a moment, and decided the sooner this was over, the better. She took in a deep breath and began, "I was going for a jog-"

"On Michigan Drive?" He interrupted.

"Yes."

"Why that road?"

She didn't understand the point of the question, but she shook her head and answered, "It's the one Lieutenant Anderson lives off of."

He held a hand out, asking, "You're staying with Lieutenant Anderson?"

"Until I can get situated," She nodded.

He was quiet a moment, in his own indiscernible mind, before rolling his wrist and saying, "Go on."

She sighed. "I was pulled into an alley. We fought, he turned my gun against me, he chloroformed me."

"And you didn't see or hear him before that?" He prodded.

She kicked her head back and scoffed. "Yeah, I heard his breathing and I thought, 'Hey, that sounds like Nick Weaver's breathing. I should wait and see what happens,'" She retorted.

Vick stared at her, apparently displeased. He started to move closer as he went on to summarize, "In your report, you said that after you woke up, you drove for seven minutes, turned left four times and right once, and you delivered enough code words to Lieutenant Anderson over the phone that he was able to give a vague description of the situation to Lieutenant Richards."

By the time he'd finished, he was standing inches away from her. There on the dimly lit pavement, he was looking to be an entirely different man than the one she'd met at the precinct. This one was much more intimidating, and far less patient. He leaned down a little, telling her under his breath, "So when I ask you if you witnessed something, let's not pretend it's a stupid question."

"Long-winded way just to tell me to shut up," She joked. She glanced away, unable to maintain confident eye contact, but she tried to stand tall. Rolling on the balls of her feet, she regained her composure and answered, finally, "I had earphones in. It was foggy. I didn't notice anything."

The casual veneer returned to him as he nodded. Taking a step back, he gestured to the subway, and said, "Lead the way."

* * *

"Jesus Christ...!"

The sight Hank and Connor were met with upon entering the forensics lab would be one that haunted them for a while. They weren't naïve enough to think there would be no backlash from what transpired, but they expected protests and boycotts. They expected people to be loud and obnoxious, to shake their fists and complain. This wasn't any of those things; It was sinister and malicious, a grand gesture that could only indicate worse was to come.

Richards looked up at them and offered half an apologetic grin. "Shoulda warned you, huh?"

Replying with a glare, Hank shook his head and moved to the end of the exam table, grumbling, "Well I'm glad I missed breakfast. What do we got so far?"

"We picked up a fingerprint. That's being scanned now," Richards answered, holding up his tablet for emphasis. "We also got this," He said, crossing the room. He retrieved an evidence bag from the desk in the corner and turned to dangle it in the air.

Hank squinted. "Are those-"

"Dog tags, yeah," Richards nodded, dropping the bag on the desk, "Guy died last year, but his daughter reported a missing android yesterday." Gesturing toward the exam table, he looked to the former android detective and said, "I was hoping Connor here could tell us if this is it or not?"

Connor stepped forward, his eyes on the body. Mainly, he lingered on the message carved into the torso. It was a threat, and a promise, and he found himself wanting to call Markus after this.

"He was an assisted living android for a man named John Fraye," He explained after scanning the ID that remained on the android's face. At least he still had that.

Richards nodded, confirming, "That would be our vet."

"So the man dies and his daughter takes in the android," Hank speculated. Shrugging, he added, "Most people just... toss 'em out. She have any older kids, or in-laws?"

"Divorced with two kids, both under the age of fifteen."

"I'll look into the husband," Hank called out. With one last look to the dead android, he scoffed and reached for the door. "It's always the husband," He muttered on his way out of the room.

Connor stayed in the lab, and it was only partially because Danielle Carnegie was stalking around the precinct. He waited for Richards to document the android, taking videos and photos of what remained of the body. The computer in the corner was open with two profiles on the screen, one of John Fraye, and the other of his daughter, Marie Wallace. It wouldn't be long before someone was sent to question her.

That brought him to a new thought - Richards was heading this investigation. That was unusual, and the department was scrambling more than he realized if SID was taking on cases like this one. He wondered how, if at all, this would affect the ongoing internal investigation.

"Lieutenant?" He called.

Richards peeked up from his tablet. "Yeah?"

"What do you know about this Internal Affairs officer?"

"Vick?" Richards shrugged. "Nothing."

That was also unusual. Connor remembered when the man introduced himself to Hank, citing he was new to the force. Something didn't sit right about this, and Connor murmured, "Why did they assign a new officer to such an important case?"

Richards began to respond, but cut himself short. Gaze drifting, he said, "That's... a question I would like the answer to." He stopped and glanced to Connor, as if only now noticing that he hadn't followed Hank. "Hey, is it really okay for you to be here? Y'know... being deviant, and all."

Connor didn't know the answer to that, but what other choice did he have? "I have nowhere else to go."

With a small huff, Richards admitted, "I am _definitely_ not equipped to deal with that."

He returned to his task, and Connor watched him. He still referred to androids as objects, and it made Connor wonder. "May I ask you something?" Richards nodded absent-mindedly, and Connor asked, "Why did you help Jericho? I never got the impression you were sympathetic."

Richards side-eyed him, muttering, "My wife tells me that, too." Taking in a deep breath, he lowered his tablet and faced Connor fully. "Look, I don't know what to think about you androids. Maybe you're people, maybe I should have... followed Perkins," He shrugged, then ran his hand through his hair. He got lost in his own thoughts for a moment before saying, "All I know is, Hank's the best detective I've ever met and Andy's life has been in my hands for a long time. I owed 'em this much."

Connor wasn't sure he understood it, making hard decisions you didn't quite comprehend or support for the sake of people who did. He tried to imagine himself in that position, but could only go back to the moments before he was deviant. If Andy and Markus hadn't succeeded at that, he didn't know what he would have done, but he was sure he wouldn't have let them go. He _wasn't_ deviant then, though, and if Andy and Markus hadn't succeeded at that, what happened after wouldn't have been his choice. He would convince himself of that eventually.

He turned to leave, but stopped. Looking down at the android, he said, "His name was Keith."

Richards was confused until he saw Connor's focus was on the android. On Keith. "I will say this...," He mumbled, picking up his tablet, "Whatever you might be, you definitely don't deserve this."

* * *

Vick took slow steps through the abandoned office in the subway, crossing over debris left behind by old inhabitants. He scanned the floor as though he would find something, and moved to the empty desk. All relevant evidence had been long since removed, but he pictured the events in his mind as clearly as if he'd been there during them.

Turning, he asked Andy, "This is where he took you?"

She nodded and looked to the chair that was moved against the wall. "Tied me to that chair."

"And his android was..."

"Standing there," She pointed, "He slipped a pocket knife into my hands after he tied me down, and waited for his orders."

"Why?"

Brows furrowing at the question, she explained, "Weaver would have killed him if he didn't-"

"No," He shook his head and added, "Why did the android slip a knife into your hands?"

She stopped. If they were standing in that subway talking about this, he knew the answer to his question. He was steering her there to highlight a point, but there was no around it. "He found out I was undercover a couple months in. He decided he wanted to help me."

"And did you tell your handler the investigation was compromised?" He asked, his hands returning to his pockets and his head tilting upward.

Narrowing her eyes, she began to protest, "It wasn't c-"

"Did you tell your handler?"

She bit her tongue and swallowed her arguments. "No."

He didn't linger on it yet, but she doubted it was due to any sudden act of mercy. "So what happened next?" He asked.

With a heavy sigh, she led him out of the office and around the station floor. She retraced her steps, gesturing up the stairs as she described Connor showing up, and hiding from Nick Weaver as he found his way to a fuse box. He asked questions at every turn, seeking specific details and pushing for more information than she'd recounted in the past. She was a suspect, and he was analyzing her story.

Waving a hand around the large room, she came to the end of her story. "He thought I was out of shots so he let his guard down. Connor stepped out, Weaver turned, lifted his weapon to fire, and I shot him three times in the back."

Vick was standing a handful of yards away, in front of one of the columns she had once ducked behind to avoid gunfire. "To save Connor? An android?" He questioned.

The implication that _an android_ was not worth saving almost got under her skin enough for an outburst, but only almost. She knew that was what he trying to provoke. She tried to remain calm as she said, "He would have just turned and shot me immediately after."

"Or you would have fired warning shots and the police would have arrived before he had a chance," He argued.

Her eyes narrowed at him, and she insisted, "That's not a risk I was willing to take." When he had no reply, and he looked away from her, she found her nerves fraying. "Why are we really here? What all are you investigating? What, use of force?" She scoffed, exclaiming, "Weaver was a threat. He fired at me even when he was dying!"

He looked back and was watching her intently, but still he said nothing. It was like she was on exhibit, and he was silently picking at everything he thought to be a flaw and mistake.

Andy was unraveling under his stare. "Is it the undercover work? Sam didn't jeopardize the case. He was my source, and all the information he gave me was good." She trailed off, but her glare only hardened as she tried desperately to guess at his motives and the real reason he was going to all of this. "Or is it about the red ice?" She stepped forward, continuing, "I never used it, I never manufactured. I was told to play my part, to 'stand off to the side and watch.' That's the whole point of being _undercover_! I did my job!"

"Have you gone to counseling yet?"

The question was like a slap in the face, and it stopped her in her tracks. "What?" She choked.

Eyes drifting down, he gestured forward and muttered, "You keep shifting your arm..." He shook his head, dismissing the comment himself. Finally, he began to approach and give her answers. "You shot a man in the back because he was about to damage a machine. You contacted Lieutenant Richards numerous times in the hour before a raid was conducted on Jericho and mysteriously, deviants were in mid-escape when officers arrived. The detective android you worked with turned deviant itself, but not before letting almost every deviant it was hunting escape, half of those situations which you yourself witnessed."

It was unlike him to wait for her response, but he granted her that. When she remained silent, like a deer caught in the headlights, he straightened. "You grew sympathetic from working with Weaver in a botched investigation, and that trauma led you to obstruct the FBI's efforts to curtail deviancy. A Deputy District Attorney and two Lieutenants went above and beyond to help you. Now it's a conspiracy," He rattled off before stopping in front of her. "That's what Agent Perkins will say when he asks for your badge and it's what Jason Hart's lawyer will use to get his case dismissed."

She averted her gaze but quickly raised it to meet his again. "They'll be wrong."

"Will they?" He retorted. "Your metal friend isn't the only one on a deadline, here. Until and unless androids are given rights, you're not just at risk of losing your badge, and it's not just you on the line." Leaning forward, he told her quietly, "I suggest you get a lawyer, Detective Hope." His words hung over them, casting a heavy atmosphere. He let it sink in for her, now, the severity of the situation she was in.

Andy's ringing phone cut through the air, echoing through the station. It pulled a jump from her, but it was all the indication she gave as she reached into her pocket. She continued to meet Vick's stare with one of her own. "Yeah?" She spoke into her phone.

Richards' voice came through the other end, unaware of the scene he'd just interrupted. "_We got a match to that fingerprint. I'm sending you the address._"

"Got it. Thanks." Hanging up, she shoved her phone away as she turned for the stairs. "Now it's my turn to drive."

She couldn't leave that station soon enough.

* * *

The address Richards gave led them to a small, one-story home within the suburbs. Andy parked at the curb adjacent to the driveway, and looked out the passenger's side window. The yard had been recently maintained, and to a near perfect degree. A driving mower was stationed near the porch, at the end of which was a work table holding various cans of paint.

Vick sat beside her in the car and examined the home, though he didn't know what he was searching for. "Why are we here, Detective?"

"That android someone left in front of the station had a fingerprint," Andy answered, picking up her phone from its tray built into the dash. She switched the screen to one of a photograph, revealing the ID of a stout, middle aged woman. "Jennifer Washington, landscaper."

Vick looked over the photo, frowning. "Are you sure you should be the one handling this case?"

"Richards was put in charge of it, and I found the fingerprint."

He huffed. "I didn't realize the DPD worked on a first come, first serve basis."

She didn't give his criticism any thought, putting her phone away. "It does now," Was her empty response as she removed herself from the car. She pointedly slammed the door behind her, the vibration jolting through Vick's seat.

Vick chuckled to himself, and left the car to follow her. They walked down the driveway and climbed the steps to the porch, where Andy rapped her knuckles against the front door. A radio playing inside the house stopped at the sound, and allowed them to hear muffled footsteps travel from one side to the other.

Andy looked around her as they waited, from the porch to the yard, and then to the rest of the neighborhood. It was an average area, with homes only a little bigger than Hank's, but the sidewalks were clean and the streetlights looked new. Most of the properties had some sign of domestic life outside, be it yard equipment or child's toys or decorative statues. She paid a special deal of attention to the neighbor's house at her right, because those things were not present, and if she looked closely enough, she could see lines of cut grass bleeding from this yard to theirs.

The front door opened just a few inches, the woman in the earlier photo behind it. She eyed them with heavy suspicion as she greeted with a gruff, "Yeah?"

Andy's attention was still elsewhere. Noticing this, Vick cleared his throat, "Miss Washington?"

"That's me."

"My name's Arthur Vick. This is Andy Hope," He introduced, flashing a smile and his badge, "We're with the DPD. We have some questions for you."

She turned her head somewhat, scowling. "About what?"

Vick started to reply, but Andy beat him to it. Returning her attention in front of her, Andy asked, "Do you do your neighbor's yard work?"

Both gazes snapped toward her, baffled by the abrupt topic. "What?" Jennifer asked.

"The work in their yard crosses into yours. Do they pay you?" Andy pursued, ignoring Vick.

Jennifer scoffed, but answered, "Yeah, every month. Why?"

"Have you ever seen an android on their property?"

The confusion on her face shifted to paranoia. She stared hard at them, quiet for several seconds before quietly asking, "This about that android with a missing arm?"

Vick and Andy stiffened, and shared surprised glances. Even Andy only half expected that to go somewhere. "He's missing a lot more than that," She joked.

"Shit..." Jennifer muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "I didn't have nothing to do with that, all right? I don't know the guy, I just mow his lawn."

Vick was the one to continue their line of questioning, now that he knew where they were going. "How did you know about the android?"

"I was coming home from work last night and he was trying to get this android out of his car. The thing was half out of it, couldn't walk on its own," Jennifer complained. She leaned out, pointing to the neighbor's home. "Stew asked me to help him get it onto the porch."

"Did Stew tell you anything about the fact it was missing a limb?" Vick asked.

"I don't know, he said something about it getting hit by a car," She moved back behind the door, telling them, "Look, I was late on the curfew last night with those road blocks you people put out for that protest, so I wasn't interested in sticking around listening to some excuse I didn't really care about. I helped him get it to the porch and I came back home."

Instead of pushing for more information, or attempting to poke holes in the woman's story, Andy shrugged. "Good enough for me. Thanks for your cooperation," She said, nodding as she moved to the steps.

Vick watched her leave, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed. He took off after her, hearing Jennifer shut the door behind him as he descended the stairs. By the time he reached her, they hit the sidewalk. "So you're going to just take her word for it?" He asked.

"You're free to go back and interrogate her if you want," She told him, speeding up her newly rejuvenated stride as she muttered under her breath, "It'd give me a break from it."

He sighed, and jumped to keep up with her. "This is ridiculous...," He grumbled to himself. She took the steps two at time and leaped across the porch, knocking on the door. Upon reaching her, Vick faced her. "By all accounts, Detective, we're hunting down a man who broke a computer."

She'd been told to treat this as a homicide, but she had a feeling letting him know that would make a bigger mess of things. Still, she was sick and tired of him pushing this position on androids, so she decided she would use his logic against him. Hands sitting in her pockets, she raised lazy brows and offered, "That's vandalism at least."

"Vandalism?"

"The android was stolen-" Pulling out a hand to snap, she added, "Which is also theft. And then they dropped him on government property, so... littering."

He stared at her, growing more exhausted by the minute. "You really don't understand what my job is here, do you?"

Shaking her head, she retorted, "Don't care."

She leaned sideways and to the right, looking in through a window on the porch. The curtains were thin and pushed out of view of the window, and from where she stood, she could see the living room and an open kitchen. There was a coffee table holding an assortment of tools and gadgets, and somewhere behind it on the floor was a flashing blue light. She bent down, trying to determine its source, and she swore she saw eyes staring back at her.

Just as she was able to register that information, she caught sight of movement in the kitchen. A hooded man had opened a window by the door, and was halfway outside it.

"Hey!"

He jumped, and started to work faster on his escape. Andy pushed Vick out of her way and took a wide step back near the edge of the steps. She threw her foot against the door and kicked it open as the man's feet hit the ground on the opposite side of the property.

"Detective-!" Vick began, though he was cut short by the next several seconds.

Andy raced across the living room into the kitchen, her hand slamming down on the window frame as she leaned down to get a glimpse of the direction he was going. She took one, brief look back into the house. What she saw had indeed been eyes; an android was laying on the floor by the couch, half her body destroyed.

"Check on her!" She ordered Vick as she threw the back door open and left to give chase.

They didn't remain on the property for long, the chase taking them out through the back of the neighborhood and into a commercial district. He wasn't especially fast, but he was tall and determined, and those were enough to make up for it. They went down a single block, then through an alley, climbing over a chain link fence that blocked off a large construction area. Andy chased him across the dirt fields and to the sidewalk on other side, which was bustling with city life.

Andy hit the edge of the pavement, skidding to a stop. He was gone from her sight, and with a road full of traffic, including quick public transportation, she had no idea which direction to even look. He was gone.

"Damn it!"

* * *

Andy sat in Connor's old chair in the bullpen, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her head in her lap. Her hair curtained over her face, but she shifted her head to see through to the captain's office. Arthur Vick had been standing inside for the past twenty minutes, along with DDA Desta Delgado. What started as a heated argument - she could hear words like 'trespassing' and 'warrant' getting thrown around - soon turned into a tense stillness. Vick handed over a tablet and waited for Fowler to finish reading.

Connor stood in front of Andy, leaning against the desk and watching the office with her. He and Hank had been debriefed on what happened with Jennifer Washington, and the stranger who kidnapped another android. Looking down, he asked her, "Are you all right?"

"Oh yeah, dandy," Came her muffled response from beneath arms and hair.

He frowned at her dismissal. "Andy," He called, waiting for her to unblock her sight and peak up at him. "Talk to me."

She didn't expect to hear the gentleness of the request, but it soothed her somewhat, and made her want to talk. There were so many things wrong today that she could throw a dart and land on two or three of them.

The subway conversation was still fresh in her mind, and it was turning out to be the hardest to handle. Wringing her fingers together, she confessed, "The red ice case is falling apart, Richards wouldn't be in this trouble if it weren't for me, and now Delgado's in there, too." She repeated the issues Vick once brought to her attention, each one dropping more weight onto her shoulders. It made her feel sick. Scoffing, she asked, "How bad did I mess this up?"

They hadn't talked about whether she regretted helping Jericho or not yet. With everything going on, and Connor's own reluctance to discuss the night prior, he didn't push it. He decided now he should have pushed, should have pulled her aside that morning and made sure she was doing okay.

"They're helping you because you were right," He told her.

She threw him a skeptical glance. "Richards didn't help me because he thought I was right."

No, he definitely didn't do that. It made even Connor wonder why Richards would put himself on the line like that, which was why he sought out those answers himself. "He helped because you're a good person."

She almost refused him outright, but found herself at a loss for words. Who could decide that sort of thing, and how big a trail of destruction could her actions leave behind her before they weren't so good anymore? Finally, she murmured, "Good doesn't always mean right." Leaning back in her chair, she didn't allow him a chance to argue. She tried to move the conversation along as she waved toward Fowler's office and said, "I'm just off my game. IA in there took me to the subway. Had me walk him through the whole thing with Weaver."

This event, Connor and Hank didn't know about. He leaned off the desk, an outburst bubbling from him. "What?"

She watched him stand, surprised by his sudden movement. "I wasn't supposed to leave the scene until I gave a report in the first place, so...," She trailed off, shrugging.

It wasn't good enough an explanation for Connor, who was going through an emotional cycle of protective concern and anger that he'd never experienced before. "That wasn't appropriate. What happened was traumatic and the report that was made was sufficient. He shouldn't have taken you back there," He insisted, feeling himself grow more and more riled.

"I'm okay," She assured him, holding out a hand. She was annoyed to admit as an afterthought, "I would have done the same thing if I was him." That got to her as much as everything else - Vick chipped away at all her vulnerable places, just as she was trained to do with the people she knew while undercover. She'd been just as easy to manipulate as any of them.

Connor still stood in front of her, but he seemed to calm down. She eyed him as he shifted awkwardly, as if unsure of what to do, and she felt herself becoming amused.

He noticed it, and his eyes narrowed. "You're smiling now."

Attempting to hide her grin behind her knuckles, she looked away. "You looked like you were gonna kick his ass," She mused.

"I..." He stopped, mouth hanging open before he admitted, "Don't know what my plan was." It pulled a bark of laughter from her and he tried to glare, but the subtle smile betrayed him. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but I could do without you laughing at me."

"I'm sorry," She apologized through her chuckling. Once she controlled it, she added, "But thank you. For being concerned."

"Of course I would be," Was his immediate reply. It was inane to thank him for that, Connor thought. Concern for her - and Hank - were a given at this point.

Footsteps pulled their attention to the corner of the bullpen. Richards and Hank approached them, a tablet in Richards' hand. "We got a name," He called out, stopping at the end of the desks and reading off his screen, "Stewart Combs. Forty-three, lost his job last year when the factories switched to android staff."

"Go figure," Hank huffed.

A door to Fowler's office opened, and Fowler stood in the doorway. He whistled, and when they looked back, he nodded. "You three. In here."

* * *

Hank, Richards, and Andy filed into the office like nervous schoolchildren. Those already there watched them and waited for them to settle in front of the desk. Once they had, Fowler crossed his arms. "First of all, good work out there today." He looked pointedly at Vick, indicating their initial argument was about Stewart Combs. "We've got people canvasing the area, and CSI has the whole house blocked off."

"What about the android?" Hank asked of the woman found on the floor of the man's living room.

Fowler shook his head. "Didn't make it."

It was bad news, but they worried it was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, so they braced themselves for more. Tilting his head toward the agent by the wall, Fowler said, "Detective Vick finished his report on what happened last night."

Hank glanced to him, "Is this where we hand over our badges?"

Fowler didn't answer, instead waving his hand for Vick to speak. Vick took a small step forward, pulling at the edge of his blazer. He cleared his throat, and began, "After reviewing all the materials, I've decided that the road blocks Lieutenant Richards put into place, while certainly questionable, did contain the deviants' march to the main road. That Agent Perkins found himself delayed was merely a sacrifice for the safety of Detroit. They _did_ offer him an alternate route, after all."

"That's what I've been saying," Richards grumbled.

With a thin smile, Vick retorted, "Considering what followed those events, it was necessary to investigate your actions."

Before the exchange could devolve into an argument, Hank sighed and pointed between Andy and himself. "What about us?"

"Well after _much_ discussion," Vick was sure to pause and focus a bemused stare on Delgado, "I've decided that Detective Hope's act of protest is just that: An act of protest. I suggest it stay that way." It was the biggest decision that would be made tonight, and the relief washed over Andy. Her shoulders dropped, making her realize how tense she'd been all day.

Vick continued, turning toward Fowler, "If the president rules in favor of androids, she will likely pardon any persecution against Detective Hope. Even if she sides against, public opinion has been swayed and outlets clamor to find out who Detective Hope is and why she did what she did. She's our own little media sensation. It will be a controversy the department is not in a good position to defend."

Delgado had been standing quietly to the side during this meeting, but now it was her turn to speak. "Which is what we'll say if Jason Hart's defense attempts to use this against us," She interjected, her voice turning snide as she added, "Though as I said already, that he fed information to Nick Weaver about Detective Hope is more than enough to keep his lawyers' tails between their legs. They want to lay low just as much as _we_ want them to."

"So..." It was sounding too good to be true. Andy's voice cracked as she asked, "I'm good?"

Vick hummed and shook his head. "Not quite. You still refused a direct order, and that deserves punishment."

At this point, Fowler picked up the tablet that sat at the center of his desk. It lit up with what appeared to be the IA report, and he read off the screen, "Effective immediately, Detective Andrea Hope will be removed from the Special Investigations Division and transferred to a more structured department as chosen by Captain Jeffrey Fowler."

There it was, the inevitable negative. A burst of panic hit her - she'd been with SID for so long, under Richards' authority. This was an intimidating change, and worst of all, it may have been a demotion, after everything she'd worked for. Eyes widening, she started to protest, "No, I-"

Fowler shot her a hard stare, interrupting, "This is the best you're going to get, Hope."

"There's one more thing," Vick pulled their attention to him and declared, "I believe it's in everyone's best interest that Detective Hope no longer live with Lieutenant Anderson." It was insult added to injury, and they were caught off guard as he rounded on Hank. "How much involvement would I discover from you if I really dug into this investigation, Lieutenant? Would you have allowed this to happen if she hadn't moved in with you and influenced your own views on androids?"

Hank scoffed, "She didn't influence shit-"

Fowler tossed the tablet onto his desk, exclaiming, "Bullshit; she and that android both got into your head!"

"I don't have a place to live, remember?" Andy spoke up, waving her hand to remind them her life was currently the topic at hand. "That's why I was there in the first place."

It was a good point, and Vick had prepared for it. Nodding, he assured her, "We recognize how difficult it is to transition back into normal life. The DPD will offer a little more financial aid than usual to get you into an apartment by the end of the week."

Andy fell quiet, as satisfied as she could be, all things considered. When no one argued or whined, Fowler spoke up. "I need you three to really understand what happened here, and how close you were to losing your jobs. If anything like this ever happens again, we're not protecting you."

The three in front of his desk shared insecure glances, nodding their heads and murmuring their confirmations.

"Understood."

"Yes, Sir."

"Yeah, whatever."

It was good enough for Fowler, who gestured behind the group. "Now get the hell out of my office. Hope, we'll figure out where to put you tomorrow."

Everyone turned and began to leave the room. Andy took hold of the door and was the last to go, but stopped on her way out. A conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and made it hard to leave just yet. She closed the door, hand hovering on the handle.

Fowler noticed her presence and sighed, assuming more protests to be on the horizon. "Hope, I'm not arguing about this with you. We're _lucky_ this is all he decided to do-"

"I want counseling," She interrupted him. The words tasted strange, painful almost, but they hadn't even made top three on the list of things she would dwell on tonight. Eyes drifting downward, she clarified, "A month, at least. For everything, the red ice, Weaver... Yesterday."

He stared at her a moment, his expression unreadable. Counseling was required after officer involved shootings, but they'd skipped a lot of protocol with the incident regarding Weaver. He was paying for that in the long run; they all were. It surprised him that any of his people would seek help, but he hoped it was a good sign. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for all of them to talk to someone after this.

"Okay. I'll get it in order for you."

"...Thank you."

* * *

Vick was packing away his briefcase when Andy left the captain's office. She veered off her original path when she saw him, yelling, "Hey!" He looked to her as she stopped beside the desk, and she complained, "What was all that crap in the subway about needing a lawyer if you were just going to do this?"

"Oh, make no mistake, Detective. I still think you should get a lawyer," He said, pulling the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. Turning to face her, he explained, "What I did today was to protect the DPD. Agent Perkins went through department channels this time, but he might go after you alone next, _especially_ if the president declares deviants to be broken machines."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear, that this may not have been over for her. Still, he'd said it himself in the meeting that pursuing legal action would be too much trouble. She would take his advice, and hope that he was right. "What do _you_ think she should do?"

His appearance changed as he smiled and postured for his reply. "My opinion is whatever the department wants it to be."

She huffed. _Kiss ass,_ she thought. "God, that's boring."

"It's efficient," He corrected. There was a tiny pause as he glanced above her head to the kitchen, where a CyberLife representative still paced and argued on the phone. "You can tell Miss Carnegie that until our android friend is legally declared a person with free will, it's evidence. And considering the reach of Nick Weaver's influence and how lucrative his list of contacts has been so far, the DPD will not be handing over any form of evidence to a company which may find it in their best interest to obstruct an ongoing investigation."

Andy shook her head, needing a double take to understand the sudden shift. "How..."

He smirked, saying, "I did my research, Detective." With that, he walked away, and along the outside of the bullpen toward the entrance. As he passed Hank and Connor, he lifted a hand to give a lazy wave.

Delgado had been talking to Richards nearby, and she pulled away from him to approach once Andy was alone. Hand resting against the edge of the cubicle divider, she said, "I'm going back to the office until you have more on Combs." Andy nodded, but Delgado didn't leave yet. She leaned forward and lowered her voice to whisper, "Hey, this'll go away. Everyone was feeling the heat, you were just the first to do something about it. FBI knows that. They're going to cry and stomp their feet for a while, but they'll go away."

It was uncharacteristically optimistic of her. Andy wasn't sure if that meant things were that dire, or if she was really telling the truth. Either way, she'd done more to help than was ever expected. "Thanks for whatever you said in there," Andy said, glancing to the office.

Delgado nodded and with a small smile, she mused, "Welcome back." It was a long overdue welcome, one Andy distinctly remembered Delgado once joked about not wanting to give. Andy returned the smile and the two shared a laugh before parting ways.

The detective returned to Hank and Connor. Hank huffed as she closed in, saying, "Well... that could have gone worse."

"It's not over yet," Spoke Richards from around the corner. He was staring through the doorways into the lobby of the precinct, where a middle aged woman paced by the wall. The trio moved to stand by him, watching her as well. "Never had to do a notification for an android before. This should be interesting."

It was all they needed to know who she was. It was time to talk to her, and yet none of them moved. Death notifications were always delicate, but this was the first of its kind. It was for an android. It didn't help that Stewart Combs was still on the loose, and his victim count had already doubled before the day was over.

Connor broke their awkward silence. "I'd like to do it, Lieutenant." Everyone turned to stare, and it took him some time to notice their attention. He shifted, then explained, "I tried tracking Keith's last whereabouts, but the system had been deactivated almost a week ago."

"He was deviant," Hank realized.

Nodding, Connor said, "He chose to stay where he was. I think it would help her to hear what happened from me."

Neither Hank nor Richards gave him the go ahead right away. They'd danced the line of protocol enough lately, and death notifications were meant to be given by them, not a third party. But he was onto something, Andy believed, so she piped up, "I'll go with him, make sure it's right."

It was better than doing it himself, Richards thought. Shrugging, he pulled the dog tags from his pocket. He handed them to Connor, who closed his fingers around them and looked to Andy for reassurance. She grinned at him, a tiny but approving one, and ushered him to the doorway. Hank and Richards stepped closer together to watch the upcoming scene.

* * *

"Miss Wallace?"

Marie Wallace stopped her pacing and turned to find Connor and Andy standing there. She didn't know how long she'd been waiting in that lobby, but she had called the babysitter twice to extend their services. It was frustrating, but that paled in comparison to the anxiety that was simmering and tying her stomach into knots. The longer the clock ticked on, the more certain she was that she would be getting worse and worse news.

"Yes? What's going on?" She questioned, taking long strides to meet them at the door. "Did you find Keith?"

They wouldn't answer her, and it very nearly sent her into a fit. Andy steered the conversation away from that, asking "What can you tell us about him?"

Marie wanted to refuse to entertain this, but her feet hurt and her imagination had been left to run wild for hours. Shaking her head, she started, "Um, my dad got him. He needed help around the house after my mom passed." She gave a small, amused huff. It was hard to believe that was how everything started. "He really took a liking to Keith. I couldn't just leave him out on his own after my dad died. Not that I wanted to, though. He's been a big help since my divorce."

The smile the memories left her with started to fade with the concern born from their stares. She couldn't tell if they were angry or nervous, and she started to suspect maybe she was in trouble. "This isn't about me not turning him into the police, is it? I know I was supposed to, for those... recycling centers, but it's not like I missed the deadline. I was just... waiting. Hoping something would change," She stuttered, shifting her eyes between the two in front of her, "Things... changed, right? I saw the news last night."

She recognized him - Connor. He was one of the androids on the television in her living room last night. Her family watched him lead half of Jericho down Woodward. Keith had been speechless. Her sons had been speechless. Under any other circumstances, she probably would have asked him for a photograph to bring home. It would have sat on the mantle with every other memory. Now she was three feet away from him, with a thousand different questions.

"Where is Keith?"

* * *

Danielle Carnegie left the kitchen at the Detroit Police Department with new levels of exhaustion. She would be returning home for now, and then would convene with a boardroom of lawyers in the morning to decide on CyberLife's next move. If they had to, they would go around Captain Fowler and straight to the Chief of Police.

She slowed to a stop by Hank and Richards, spotting Connor in the midst of conversation with a woman in the lobby. "What's it doing?" She asked, pointing.

"He's making a death notification," Richards answered, turning his head to look down at her, "You want to interrupt?"

The answer baffled her. They had just finished being under investigation for their involvement with Jericho, and this was what they decided to do? "Lieutenant, you can't possibly be serious with this-"

"He wanted to do it," Richards interrupted with a shrug.

She was sick and tired of the Detroit police. Glaring up at him, she argued, "It's a _machine_. It doesn't have wants or feelings or-"

A wail broke out from the lobby and cut off the rest of Carnegie's rant. It was a cry that traveled through the entirety of the station and echoed off its walls. People in the bullpen stopped what they were doing and turned toward the sound, even if for just a moment. Some returned to their work to immerse themselves in something else, but others watched on with a newer, more open kind of sympathy. Android or no, heartbreak was heartbreak.

Marie Wallace was no longer supporting herself. Her knees had collapsed in and let her crumple to the ground. Connor lurched to catch her by the arms and he held onto her sideways as she cried. Her purse had fallen to the side, forgotten, and she hid her grief-stricken face behind shaking fingers. John Fraye's dog tags dangled from Connor's hands.

Danielle Carnegie respectfully averted her gaze, and said nothing more.

* * *

Andy and Connor sat beside one another on a bench near the front entrance of the department. They hadn't said a word since they helped Marie Wallace into a taxi and sent her home. No one in the lobby had said a word, and one by one, people were beginning to file out for the night.

"Today sucked," Andy spoke. She leaned her back against the wall, hands stuffed together between her knees. Her eyes were closed, and her brows were in a tight scrunch.

Connor felt about as badly as she looked, but he smiled anyway. "It could have been worse." Her eyes opened with skepticism, but he ignored it. "She took Keith in when she didn't have to, and when he became deviant, he stayed. They both chose to be a family," He explained, looking over his shoulder at her. "It's proof that humans and androids can do this."

She huffed at him, but her expression was softer. "You gonna make every case an after-school special or are you just in that kind of mood?"

He rolled his eyes, and it pulled a smirk from her. "It would be nice to see more of it, though."

"If Hank can change his mind, I think it's safe to say most of the world can," He mused.

Humming, she agreed, "Very true." When a new thought occurred to her, she nudged him with her elbow. "Hey-" Sitting up straight so that she was at eye level with him, she said, "You did good with the notification. It's not easy."

It definitely wasn't that, Connor thought. He would dwell over it for a long time, wondering about the family. He would wonder about that second android, too, and if there was anyone to notify for her. That alone was almost overwhelming. "I doubt that changes?" He asked. It was a question to which he was sure he knew the answer.

"Some days it's harder," She answered, the joking tone meant to lighten the heavy burden. Her smile widened, became more genuine, and she told him, "Welcome to the club."

High heels on tiled floor caught their attention, and they stood to greet Carnegie as she came into the lobby. "Connor. Detective," She greeted. Rather than leave, she stopped in front of them. She looked relatively calm, as if her problems had been resolved, and it sent up red flags with Connor and Andy, who was now trying to remember every word of the solution Vick crafted for them.

Instead of immediate and obvious doom, however, Carnegie gave a long sigh. "I spoke with CyberLife, and we've decided we're willing to let you stay here with the DPD until President Warren makes her decision regarding android rights," She explained. Their shared their surprise as she went on to say, "If the law continues to declare you property of CyberLife, we'll work with Captain Fowler on arrangements to help close his task force's case as quickly as possible before sending you in for deactivation."

"And if the law makes the _right_ decision?" Andy jabbed.

Carnegie delivered a pointed stare her way. She appeared to be swallowing her words before she answered, "Then CyberLife will have to reevaluate its purpose in a new world." Nodding to each of them, she ended the conversation. "Good evening, Detective."

"Yeah, evening."

They watched her leave the department. Connor turned toward Andy, who was quiet and still fixated on the doors. That had been so easy, so smooth, that she half expected Carnegie to run back in and declare it a joke. She was waiting for the sucker punch. When none came, the remainder of the day's tension finally left her.

"I need a drink," She scoffed.

Hank and Richards were walking up behind them, and they grouped together in an almost empty lobby. Hank's hand came down on Connor's shoulder and he squeezed while shooting Andy a small grin. "Funny you mention that. We're going to Jimmy's. You in?"

"Definitely."

"Hank's buyin'," Richards commented, jutting his thumb toward the lieutenant at his left.

Hank took immediate offense, exclaiming, "What? The hell I am!"

Richards shrugged and told him, "You're the one with PTO, not us."

"He's got a point."

"Oh for- Fine, beers on me. You comin', Connor?"


	14. Bonds and Therapy

Hey! Happy Holidays!

I hope to get chapter fifteen out by Christmas, and then there will be a bit of a delay in updates because I've been reworking sixteen and seventeen. Whether I hit that deadline or not, though, fifteen will definitely be out before the new year.

* * *

**November 19, 2038**

With extra help from the DPD and the brunt of her stress behind her, it only took Andy two days to find an apartment. The Boulevard was less than ten minutes from Midtown and the department, and the small but efficient space had felt like a good fit. The find came at the exact right moment, too, because everyone's days off work were leaving them antsy and restless. A storm was brewing in Hank's home, and Andy was ready to leave.

"You should also change your locks. It's protocol for landlords to do so between tenants, but you should ensure your own security."

She resisted a sigh and looked up at the counter above the elevator doors. Connor, she believed, had the worst of it the past few days. Without Markus keeping him updated or asking for his input, and without the red ice case to keep him busy, he threw himself into helping her. This meant her morning was full of advice on the basic steps of apartment life - she was willing to bet he'd been researching it in the middle of the night.

She didn't hold it against him, but there was only so much she could take. "This isn't my first apartment, you know," She quipped, side-eying him. She shifted her duffle bag further up her shoulder, and jostled the box in her arms.

It cut his rambling short, and he noted the faint edge in her otherwise friendly tone. Realizing he was hyper-fixating, he nodded, and looked to the doors. "Right."

She glanced his way. He was attempting to appear indifferent, and it made her regret saying anything at all. _You weak bitch,_ she thought of herself before leaning to the side to nudge his arm. "But I appreciate the concern," She murmured once he looked her way.

He smiled at her as the elevator reached the sixth floor and stopped. They walked halfway down the hall to a door that was cracked open, and Connor pushed his way inside with the box in his arms. Andy was behind him when she heard a door at the end of the hall open.

A young woman had forgone the elevator ride and climbed the six floors up the stairwell. She slowed in her pace as she neared Andy, coming to a stop one door down and across the hall. They watched one another in casual interest, and she was the first to smile. Pulling earbuds out, she asked, "New neighbor?"

Andy nodded. "That's me." Re-positioning the box in her arms to hold out a hand, she introduced herself. "Andy."

"I'm Kira," The woman replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

Shuffling behind Andy pulled their attention to the doorway, where Hank had emerged. He stopped once he spotted Kira, and offered a gruff but awkward nod. "Uh, hi," He gestured to Andy's box, asking, "That the last of it?" When she nodded, he moved to take it from her hands and carry it inside.

"Moving away from home?" Kira asked, grinning.

The question puzzled her until she realized what Hank must have looked like to the outside eye. "Oh, n...," She trailed off. There was no reason to hide it - she wasn't undercover anymore - but it had been so long that it felt natural. Breaking into a casual smile, she huffed, "Yeah, secret's out."

Kira was none the wiser. She had no reason to think the nice young woman moving in was telling lie. "It's safe with me," She joked, waving a hand around her, "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Andy?" Connor peaked out into the hall, his timing precise enough to make her want to scream. She looked over her shoulder at him, then back to Kira. It directed his attention to the woman across the hall, and he straightened. "Excuse me-"

"That would be Connor," Andy interrupted, swiftly taking control of the encounter. Unfortunately, the introduction had been left open-ended and without knowing what was going on, he could still reveal too much. She had to convey to him to play along, in no uncertain terms. "My boyfriend," She added, turning to stare up at him.

His gaze shot down toward her. It was unnoticeable if you didn't look for it, but he'd been caught off guard. He regretted walking out of the apartment - all he'd done was step outside, and he found himself in the middle of something he didn't understand. If she could see the LED under the beanie he wore, she was sure it would have been a bright yellow.

She smiled at him, eyes pleading with him to say something. Nodding, he returned his attention to Kira, saying, "I'm Connor. Andy is... my girlfriend."

It wasn't the smoothest of introductions, but Connor wasn't the smoothest of men. It felt genuine, in its own way, and Kira chuckled. "You don't sound so sure of that," She mused.

"New relationship," Andy spoke up before Connor could attempt an explanation. With a shrug, she confessed, "Practically just happened."

Kira waved it off. She was opening the door to her apartment as she told them, "Well, you look cute together."

"What?" Connor imagined this was what whiplash felt like. It was one punch after another, but that was the comment that required a double take. He didn't know what she meant, or why she thought it, but a small, unexplored part of him felt a distinct tinge of... Pride? Joy?

She'd gone inside her apartment by now, and Connor would have to shake it off and think about it later. Andy was standing in front of him, with an explanation of her own due. At his imploring stare, she offered an awkward smile and began to squeeze past him. "We'll talk about it later."

Connor shut the door and followed her into the room, but she ignored him as she picked up a smaller box marked for her bedroom. Looking up from the boxes he'd finished organizing in a stack, Hank noticed their body language and squinted his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Andy deflected.

"Andy...-"

"It's nothing!" She insisted, shaking her head.

Connor wasn't letting her get out of it that easily. "She told her neighbor I was her boyfriend," He informed, walking by toward the couch.

They stopped, and Andy pursed her lips. "Snitch," She muttered.

He picked up another box, and moved to place it atop the counter. "What are you going to do, break up with me?" He asked her, a tiny smirk teasing her.

Before she could retort, Hank lifted a hand and said, "You know what? I don't want to know." He crossed the room with Andy, standing in the doorway of the bedroom as she put down her things. "Hey. Keep on eye on him, will ya?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to the android unpacking kitchen items.

She stopped in her work to scoff. "Keep an eye on him?"

Shrugging, he began to explain, "It's his first day at the station without me-"

"He's not in preschool," She interjected.

He confronted her with a deadpan stare. "Can you tell me Gavin isn't gonna fuck with him?"

At that, she paused. As she nodded to concede, he mirrored the gesture. "Yeah, good point," She mumbled.

"Thank you," He said. He stepped away from the door and looked around before telling her, "Well, that's all your shit, so I'm heading back home."

She smirked, asking, "Don't feel like helping me unpack for a few hours?"

A snort was his only answer. "Try not to get into too much trouble, all right?" He rose his voice, making the request of the both of them.

From the kitchen, they heard Connor reply, "I'll keep an eye on her."

It was the exact wording Hank had just used with Andy. Her jaw dropped and she looked to him in silent accusation. He shifted on his feet to dodge her stare, and left out the front door.

* * *

The apartment was a long, rectangular space that came pre-furnished, and decorated in light, earthy colors. There was a small foyer at the entrance that jutted out toward a living room. Sliding doors and windows on either side took up most of the far wall, and the scene of Detroit over the balcony let light bleed in through the curtains.

To the immediate right of the foyer and behind the dividing wall was a kitchen, an island counter standing in the middle. Along the wall that connected the two rooms was a series of doors; a closet was in the middle, a bathroom to the right, and on the left was the medium-sized bedroom Andy was currently unpacking.

Connor was unfolding and flattening the box he emptied in the kitchen when a call came in. It was one he'd been waiting for, so he quickly answered. "Connor," Markus started once the call was accepted, "How are you?"

He was anxious, confused, agitated. He was feeling helpless. Those all led to a path he didn't want to go down if he could help it, so instead Connor deflected. "I'm trying to keep busy. Do you know the girl I showed you?"

With Andy's permission, he'd sent a photo and model number of Stewart Combs' latest victim to Markus. They'd been waiting to hear from him, hoping that he would have a name they could give her.

Unfortunately, he didn't. "I asked around, and no one's ever seen her before. If I knew what happened to her, I could probably help more..."

It was a not-so-subtle hint. Much to Connor's dismay, Andy wouldn't let him give Markus any details. She was avoiding causing a panic, as a dead android on the steps of the precinct was bad enough. More than that, she didn't want to go to Fowler with a request to share case information with the public.

Connor didn't know how to begin explaining the secrecy, so he tried to move the conversation along. "What's going on with Jericho?"

"We've regrouped, and I think we're safe, but more of us are arriving every day. Soon we won't be able to accommodate all of them," Markus explained. "Which leads me to what I wanted to ask of you, actually."

Connor owed a lot to Jericho, but he didn't know where this was going, and it made him tense. "I don't see how I can help with shelter."

There was a pause before Markus spoke again, as if gathering his confidence. "I think it's time for us to meet with CyberLife. We need to reach out to them before decisions are made without us in the room."

That was the last thing Connor wanted to hear. He still hadn't fully processed what happened to him three days ago, or what it meant for Jericho. He didn't know if it meant there would be more underhanded attempts on CyberLife's part to retake control, and he believed the best thing to do was to keep them as far from Markus as possible. "That's too risky. CyberLife doesn't want Jericho to succeed. You can't rely on them."

"We can't wait around for everyone else to decide whether we belong, either," Was the only argument Markus needed to make. "I'm going to meet with CyberLife, and I want your help."

Connor knew when he wasn't going to win, but he still dreaded the thought of getting in the middle, at least while he was still so in the dark himself. "I understand, but I can't help. I'm not with CyberLife anymore. If anything, I'm... a sore topic. You're better off doing this without me involved."

It wasn't good enough a reason for Markus, Connor could tell. After an extended silence, Markus resigned himself to leaving it be. "Very well. It's your decision, but if there's anything I should know - or anything you're worried about, you _can_ talk to me. Any of us. You're part of Jericho, and we have to be in this together."

* * *

Connor was lost in his thoughts when Andy returned to the living room and started unpacking the last small box that sat on the couch.

She didn't have much with her in her move. Aside from kitchen necessities and clothes, there were two boxes labeled for sports and one marked for décor. There was a stack of picture frames inside, each one between layers of folded quilts and small pillows.

He filed his concerns away, something he was becoming far too skilled at, and crossed the room. He neared the end table where she placed one of the photographs, and reached for the frame. A younger Andy grinned back at him with an arm around the shoulders of an older woman at her left. To their right was a shaven, and _sober_, Hank Anderson.

She caught him staring at it, and told him, "That's the day before I went undercover."

"Is this your mother?"

"Yep."

They looked alike. Natalie's face was softer and rounder, and the brown in her hair was brighter. They had the same nose, though, and the same, inviting smile. Hank stood tall at their side, chin up and hands down. He was poised, but the small pull at his lips was telling. Andy had carved out a place for herself in his life even before she took on the dangerous work.

Setting the photo aside, he asked her, "Any word from Lieutenant Richards on your transfer?"

She shook her head. "Fowler's not telling him anything, but I'll be fine."

"If he puts you back with Detective Reed?"

As much as any of them dreaded that, she knew that wasn't the worst option. "Then I guess I'll be stocking up on aspirin," She answered with a sigh. Handing him the now empty box, she asked, "You ready to be back in the office?"

He took it from her and began to unfold it. "I'm definitely ready to be working," He nodded.

She eyed him a few seconds longer, a single brow raising in curiosity. Humming, she said, "Good, so Hank was worried for nothing."

She had dangled a bit of intrigue in front of him, and waited for him to take the bait. He paused, well aware there was an ulterior motive behind the seemingly casual comment. "Why would Hank be worried?"

"You know, your first day back at the precinct," She answered, shrugging.

His brows furrowed. While it was true he was worried about the reception he'd receive from the rest of the department, he didn't believe they had any reason to know he was. "I was there two days ago," He denied.

"Yeah," She trailed off, nodding. Gathering the thin pile of quilts in her arms, she rattled off, "So was a CyberLife rep, trying to take you away. This is your first real day back with a job to do, and you're free to be there as much as anyone else. It's different."

A flat stare followed her across the room to the closet. He was _keenly_ aware of those facts. "Thank you for the summary."

She put the fabrics on the top shelf. "You're smarter than me, so I'm not saying anything you don't already know," She remarked, shutting the closet door. Turning, she shot him a sharp, cheerful grin that told him she knew _exactly_ what she was doing. "And if there's nothing to worry about, then it's fine."

"I am capable of picking up on sarcasm," He told her. Putting the flat box with the others, he sat at the kitchen island and faced her. He felt she would drop it if he asked, but maybe it was best to vent a little. He had enough troubles he was shouldering alone. "My presence is going to make people uncomfortable. I have to prove I deserve to be there, and that I can be trusted."

She walked over, leaning her elbows on the surface. "So you're a rookie. Everyone has to do that."

With a bitter smile, he looked to her and said, "They're not uncomfortable because I'm new."

"That doesn't change the solution. You said it yourself; you just have to prove it to 'em," She said, as though it was nothing. When he still looked unconvinced, she reached out to nudge his shoulder. "Besides, you already have an advantage. The SID guys like you."

It was nice, if it were true, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Or they like that I'm the key to your red ice case."

"I'm just saying, I wasn't the only one standing up to Perkins," She said, reminding him of the showdown three nights prior that almost took down an entire unit of the Detroit police. It was a good point, and Connor had a hard time poking holes in that logic. Quietly, she added, "You got this."

He smiled at her, and how sure she sounded of it. Standing straight, she wandered into the kitchen. She was looking through the drawers and the fridge, acclimating herself to her new home. Connor watched her, and let his mind drift to the new neighbor they met, and lied to.

"So, is there a particular reason you lied about my relation to you?" He asked.

If she was nervous to answer him, she didn't show it. "If it makes you feel any better, I lied about Hank, too," She joked, glancing briefly over her shoulder.

It didn't make him feel _better_, but it did explain it - somewhat. "You don't want these people to know you're a detective."

She wouldn't look back at him now, and he could see her hand lingering on the edge of the stove top, fingers curling absent-mindedly. "Old habits die hard," She dismissed with a shrug. A second later, and with a short jolt, she twisted around to scrutinize him. "You're filing this away for a lecture later, aren't you?"

He quirked a brow. "What's there to lecture? You're just choosing to lie to people after being isolated for years by a fake identity." Tilting his head down, he grinned at her, smug and derisive. "I'm sure it's _nothing_ to worry about."

She was quiet and unblinking, recognizing the tables had been turned on her. Finally, she broke into an amused grin and wagged a finger. "Nice try, Doc, but I don't fold as easy as you do."

* * *

With most of the unpacking finished, Andy and Connor left the complex. It was a short ride to the precinct, and once they arrived, they parted ways. While Connor went to check in with Richards in the SID office, Andy walked along the bullpen and went straight to Fowler's door.

He was finishing a report when she knocked, and he lifted a hand to wave her in. Stepping inside, she lined up on the other side of his desk and clasped her hands together. "Reporting in, Cap."

Putting down the folder he was working on, Fowler relaxed in his chair. "Call me Cap one more time and you won't be," He chided before waving a hand toward the bullpen. He continued to look at her with a hard, warning stare as he said, "You're working with Hank."

She tried not let him see the amount of relief she was feeling, afraid this was either a sick joke on his part or an even sicker test. "Okay," She replied, nodding.

He watched her reaction and pointed. "This doesn't mean you're off the hook. If either of you mess up, even a little, you're with Reed and Hank spends his foreseeable future behind a desk."

It was a hefty threat, and she didn't put it past him to make good on it. "I understand."

Once he was satisfied he'd scared her enough, he went on to say, "While Hank's still suspended, I want you looking into Combs. We need to get out in front of this before it becomes a bigger problem."

"Yes, Sir." She turned and moved for the door. Her hand was on the handle when he called her name, and she stopped.

He'd leaned back over his desk and had papers in his grip. "Your appointment's today?"

She paused, hand drifted down the door. "Yes, Sir."

He made no indication he heard her until he finally nodded. "You're dismissed," Was all said as he turned to his paperwork, leaving the exchange as simple and painless as that.

* * *

As the afternoon neared, Andy found herself making less progress than she hoped. She dug through every resource she had and discovered as much as she could without a warrant, but it all barely touched the surface. Stewart Combs was living half off the grid, even more so now that he was a wanted man.

A body grew near her and she looked up from her disorganized array of papers. Connor was moving Hank's chair to the end of her desk where he uncharacteristically fell into his seat. "How's it going?" She asked, her cheerful tone a stark contrast to his apparent mood.

"I compiled a list of names for Detective Richards. I offered to help look into them, but he kicked me out," He answered, elbows on the armrests.

He was unhappy with the situation, and the deep frown on his face made it obvious enough. His brows were knitted together, and she swore he was sinking into the chair just a little. She began to smirk, a strained cough masking the laugh. "You're pouting."

His head snapped toward her, and a strand of hair swayed at his movement. It was almost comical. "Don't be ridiculous, Andy. I'm not pouting," He pouted.

She rose her hands in mock surrender, and waited for her quiet laughter to subside before she spoke again. "Outside help has to be sanctioned first, and technically you were only approved for the sting. He's just trying to follow protocol."

"I understand his caution after the IA investigation, but it's a substantial list. SID will be looking at it for days," He complained, shaking his head.

Brows shooting up at that, she replied, "A whole week. Perish the thought."

He stared at her. She was mocking him now. He knew police work took time, especially when those in charge weren't advanced intelligence like he was, but- Well, that was just it. He _was_ advanced intelligence, and he could handle this in a fraction of the time. Still, he knew what point she was trying to make. The world wasn't going to end if they didn't have answers a few days sooner.

That didn't mean he had to like it, or yield to it. Deciding to focus on her work, he asked, "Have you found anything about Combs?"

Her amusement shifted to exhaustion. She fell back against her chair, bringing her tablet with her. As she scrolled down the page, she listed, "He tried to join the military when he was eighteen but he didn't pass the physical. He got his house from the inheritance when his mother died in 2025. She was married and divorced twice, neither to his father, and that's where the trail ends."

"Who was his father?"

"Prosper Hobbs," She read off. Tossing the tablet onto the desk, she told him, "There are seven men in this country with that name, and _none_ of them have ever been to Michigan."

With a new puzzle calling him, Connor was returning to his normal self. "So one of them lied in the hospital."

"Question is which one?" She asked. A tight smile pulling at her lips, she said, "I'm going to ask around, but something tells me the FBI won't be picking up my phone calls. I'm looking for the stepfathers' families now. One looks bleak, but the other's got kids who might know something."

It was the end of the trail for Stewart Combs, but they had other clues to chase. One of the androids had been identified, but the other remained a mystery. All they knew was that she was deviant, and had gone missing from a storefront weeks ago. "Have you heard from Markus?" She asked.

Connor shook his head, saying, "He didn't know anything that could help, but he does expect answers eventually about why I was asking."

"He'll get them when the rest of the public does. I know it sucks, but that's the way it is. I'm not pissing Fowler off," She said, her captain's threats still fresh in her mind.

Although he wanted to argue, he would push it aside. He knew this wasn't easy, juggling her superiors and her work and the people she wanted to help. He had his own version of that turmoil going on, and he had no idea how to handle it himself.

He was spiraling down thoughts of his earlier conversation with Markus, and Andy noticed. "How are they doing, anyway?"

"They're struggling to take care of everyone, but they're better," He answered.

That sounded like the truth, but there was something he wasn't saying. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "How are _you_ doing?"

He blinked a few times, breaking out of his daze. "I'm fine."

Her shoulders dropped and she frowned at him. He had to know by now that wouldn't be good enough. "You're _so_ convincing about it."

Sighing, he sat up in his chair and leaned forward, wanting as few people to overhear him as possible. "He wants my help planning a meeting between Jericho and CyberLife."

"Makes sense," She nodded. So why did he not look happy? "Why is that not good?"

That was what he couldn't tell her, and for many reasons. "He expects me to have leverage over CyberLife, but I think I might end up making things worse." It was a significantly diluted answer. He knew she saw through it, but it was the best he could give.

Whether she accepted it as truth or not, she wouldn't let him hide from Jericho without a fight. Scoffing, she said, "You could say that about anything. You know more about CyberLife, and humans, than any of them. He knows that. It's why he's asking."

"What if-"

"And here's the DPD's last plastic pet." The mocking voice drifted along as Gavin Reed walked past Andy's desk toward his own. He stopped a few feet away, turning to jut his chin out in Connor's direction. "Didn't you get the memo? No androids in the bullpen."

While that was mostly true - the android units once working for the department were all absent - Connor was an exception. It was nothing but bait to start an argument, so he remained stoic as he said, "I'm here to help Lieutenant Richards on his case."

Nodding his head, Gavin stepped forward and sneered at the android. "Oh, right, you're _evidence_ now. Well then, allow me to take you down to the evidence room."

"Focus on your own work, Reed," Andy interjected, finally looking up at him. She smiled, sweet and bright, adding, "Unless you need our help with something you can't solve?"

Pointing a finger at her, he smirked and warned, "Watch your tone, Detective. Don't want to hurt my feelings and piss off Fowler with a new report, do you?" He spun on his heel, cackling to himself as he returned to his desk.

While he appreciated the swift end to the encounter, Connor didn't approve of her taking fire for him. "You don't need to defend me, Andy."

She never acknowledged his comment, sitting forward in her chair and picking up their conversation where it had been left off. "You want my advice? Talk to Fowler. We've got a meeting room in the back and everything. It's neutral territory. CyberLife won't feel like they're giving in, and Jericho won't think they're walking into a trap." She stopped, glancing away. "At least, not as much of a trap."

He started to protest the idea, but found himself agreeing with it. It was already made clear to him that Markus was doing this with or without his help. This was a way to keep things clean without having to be there himself. "Do you think the captain would agree to help Jericho?"

She looked over her shoulder at Fowler's office, and Connor followed. He was ending a call with someone as he typed into his computer, unaware of the conversation going on outside. Andy picked up her tablet and turned to Connor with a casual shrug. "You're right, don't bother. Tell Markus it's a no-go. You can just squat in churches for the next fifty years."

His eyes narrowed into a pointed stare as she went back to her work. She was feeling rather cheeky today, it seemed. "A simple yes or no would suffice."

"Yes, but that's not nearly as fun for me," She joked with a grin. He stood from the chair and she called out, "Good luck. Oh, hey-" He'd passed her but stopped at this. They both turned to each other, and she asked, "I'm going for lunch in ten. You in?"

He nodded before walking away. "I'm with you."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the two of them were seated on a bench in Capitol Park. Andy leaned on her knees and held a hot dog in her hands, enjoying lunch while Connor described his conversation with Fowler. As she expected, and wouldn't let him forget, the request had gone over successfully.

"He's going to get in touch with Chief Simmons and they'll reach out to both Jericho and CyberLife. They'll plan the details as mediator," He explained.

Snorting, Andy swallowed a bite of her food before mumbling, "DPD being a mediator. There _are_ miracles in the world."

"He made it clear they wouldn't be enforcing anything beyond that," Connor said. With a faint frown, he added, "Markus thinks all of this is a good sign."

She shrugged and leaned back beside him. "He's earned some optimism." If anyone could bring CyberLife to some kind of compromise, it would be Markus. He'd already done something amazing, after all, and his speech after the protests at Woodward stirred up even stronger support from the public.

Thinking of it naturally led Andy to speculating over Connor. He had really appeared to be struggling next to Markus that night, but for the life of her, she couldn't pinpoint why that would be. Picking at the crumbs of her hot dog bun, she piped up, "We still haven't talked about what happened when he was giving that speech the other night."

Connor shook his head. To him, they'd just gone over this, but Andy didn't know that night was the reason he didn't want to help Markus work with CyberLife. She didn't know anything about that night.

It wasn't a matter of trust. He just didn't want her involved, getting her hands dirtier. Whatever CyberLife was planning - and they _had_ to be planning something - he needed to handle it alone. Whatever questions he had, about what their secrets meant for him and the rest of Jericho, he needed to answer alone. More than that, it was to preserve his pride, and her opinion of him.

He didn't want her to know CyberLife almost regained control.

"Everything worked out. It's not an issue," He said, trying to appear nonchalant. When her gaze didn't let up, he gave her a little more. "CyberLife contacted me and attempted to make threats."

"What kind of threats?"

It was a hard tone she took on, and he attempted to reassure her that it didn't need her intervention. "Nothing worse than what Miss Carnegie tried. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

She didn't say anything right away, but it was obvious she was not any less concerned. "You know I don't believe a word of that, right?" She finally asked.

He looked to her, stressing, "They won't be a problem anymore."

"Then why not want to meet with them for Markus?"

He stood corrected; apparently she _had_ connected those two events. On one hand, he couldn't blame her for wanting the truth, but on the other, the line of questioning bothered him. There was a hint of offense in his voice as he reminded her, "I'm not a suspect."

The words seemed to strike her in a way he didn't quite understand. Her eyes widened and she started to refuse the implication, "I didn't-" She stopped, taking a beat to collect herself. Lowering her voice, she looked away from him and said, "It's your business, but if it could bite people in the ass later, I just want to know about it before that happens."

"You've done enough, Andy. I'm not putting you in the middle of this," He told her.

She didn't like it, but finally, she was backing down. Fingers pulling at the corner of her paper basket, she said, "Sorry that turned into an interrogation."

He nodded, replying, "It's all right."

Her eyes drifted away to the street. It still unnerved her, and she nervously tried to give an apology she thought was worthy. "I- I didn't mean to-"

"Andy," He stopped her. This was not a side of her he'd seen before, and the sudden insecurity confused him. He made sure she was looking him in the eyes when he repeated himself, "It's all right."

This time, she believed him. Clearing her throat, she nodded and waved the paper basket in her hands. "I'll toss this and we can leave."

She wasn't more than four feet away when he called out to her. "Do you regret what you did?" He asked, bringing her to a sudden stop. When she looked back at him, he added, "We haven't talked about that, either."

No, they hadn't, but she'd had plenty of time to think over her answer. She didn't regret siding with Jericho. If she could have done things differently, she just would have been smarter. She would have helped them in a way that couldn't have so tragically backfired on them. "Not what, but... how. It was _really_ stupid."

He nodded at that. "It was. You could have been seriously hurt."

She titled her head, musing, "That, too."

"That's the main reason," He insisted. He understand what she meant, that she had not taken her safety into consideration, and he wouldn't let it slide. Not caring about her safety was _precisely_ why it was an issue.

Before she could respond, her phone started ringing. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, answering with a casual tone that betrayed the heavy conversation they'd been having. "Hello? ... That's me."

As the person on the other line spoke, Andy perked up. "Yeah, I was. Do you have anything? ... Uh, yeah, that would be awesome."

Connor watched, puzzled, as she glanced around frantically for something, then rushed back to the bench. Dropping her box down beside her, she reached out to grab Connor's arm and started repeating a series of numbers to him. He listened quietly as she came to the end of the number, and said, "Gabriel Mateev. Got it. Thank you."

She hung up the call, and was flipping through her contact list as he asked, "What was that about?"

"That was an officer in Toledo calling about Prosper Hobbs," She replied.

"He knows someone by that name?"

Shaking her head, she gestured to him, "No, but his brother might. What was that number I just gave you?" He opened his hand for her, letting the phone number project on his palm in holographic android typeface. She glanced to it and back to her phone, but did a sudden double take. "Show off," She muttered, pursing her lips.

He was positively beaming as he watched her. With a smile bordering on smug, he responded, "You're welcome."

The number started to ring, and she sat up with an amused grin as she waited. When a man on the other end picked up, she began, "Hey, this is Detective Andy Hope, with Detroit Police. I got a call from someone who says you might be able to help me out."

* * *

It was a half-hour drive out of Detroit to get to Michigan Bail Bonds. They walked up the steps and entered the small building, where they were greeted by a reception desk and a row of chairs. Andy crossed her arms, standing by the unaccompanied desk as she looked around.

They didn't have to wait long. A stocky, dark haired man in a black uniform approached from the back room and leaned out of the doorway. "Detective Hope?"

She looked up and asked, "Gabriel Mateev?"

"You got him," He nodded, gesturing for them to follow.

Falling into step behind him, Andy spoke, "Thanks again for the help. Nothing I was doing came up with a Prosper Hobbs in Michigan."

The room they were in was not meant to be this kind of office, but the company was making it work. Desks were back to back in their own version of a bullpen, and filing cabinets were crammed in any empty corner they would fit. One wall was nothing but counterspace, home to an old coffee maker and a barely used microwave. There were two offices in the rear, doors closed and blinds drawn.

Gabriel glanced over at her as they weaved through the space. "That's because his real name is Sebastian Hewitt. He's got about five aliases and they're all loosely based on his family. His father's middle name was Prosper, Hobson was his mother's maiden name, that kinda thing." He stopped at a desk near a corner of the bullpen and turned to face them. "Did he do something in Detroit?"

"Not that I know of. We're looking for his son," She answered.

With a wry face, he snorted and asked, "Sebastian's got a kid?"

"I take it he's not Dad of the Year, then," She joked.

Shaking his head, he pulled at his chair and sat down. "He's never mentioned kids, and he talks. Too much." Turning on his computer, he told her, "Trust me, they were lucky if he wasn't in the picture."

Behind Andy, Connor inquired, "What kind of record does he have?"

"A long one." Once the screen lit up with the relevant page, he reached up and twisted the monitor toward them. He leaned back in his chair, saying, "Guy's a conman who can't drive. Sometimes he gets into fights."

That was underselling it, they quickly realized. From a slew of assaults and traffic violations, to an even longer list of various fraud charges, Andy didn't even understand some of the ones he'd managed to obtain. Pointing to the information at the top of the screen, she asked, "Is that address current?"

Gabriel hit a button on his keyboard, and somewhere behind him a printer started running. "Nah, he's pretty much couch to couch. He also turns off his phone when he's not making calls, so there's no point tracing it."

She looked down at him. "Isn't that risky for you?"

Shrugging, he replied, "He's good at making court. We only ever had to send out agents once."

As he turned the monitor to its normal place, Connor asked, "Do you have a bond for him right now?"

"No. Business slowed down during the whole android thing. Still, I'd be surprised if he lays low through the new year," Gabriel answered, his face twisting in skepticism. He kicked off the floor and rolled his chair backward toward the printer. When it hit the small desk the equipment was perched precariously on, he stopped. "What's the son's name?"

"Stewart Combs."

No recognition flashed as he gave the name some thought. Pulling the papers from the printer, he returned to his desk and stapled them together. "Doesn't sound familiar, but if I hear anything about either of them, I'll give you a call," He told her, holding up the records.

She nodded, and took them off his hands. "Thanks."

* * *

With the information the bondsman had given them, they returned to the precinct and began the new search. While Connor read through the records they already had, Andy looked though the department's own database for Sebastian Hewitt. Naturally, Connor finished his task first and resorted to hovering over her shoulder.

Despite knowing more about Hewitt, Stewart Combs remained a mystery. Sighing, Andy dropped her hands onto the desk and said, "This feels like a dead end to me. Nothing suggests Combs knows his father."

He'd come to same conclusion. Lowering himself into Hank's chair, he asked, "What about the factory where he worked?"

She huffed and donned a sarcastic smile. "They directed me to their lawyer, and he doesn't want to hand over employee records. I'm shocked."

He wasn't, either. "They're going to want to protect their reputation, and this isn't enough for a warrant," He said.

"Yeah," She mumbled, lowering her head into her hand. Without leads on Combs, or his victims, they were in the dark. There was a distinct sinking feeling forming in her gut, one that usually meant this was the start of something much worse. They _needed_ to get ahead of this, and fast. "There are no obvious connections between Combs or his victims. Honestly, I think he's just driving around looking for opportunity."

Connor nodded, along his own similar thought process. "I agree. Neither of his victims were from the factory, so it's not just revenge. He's on a mission, and killing any of us contributes to that."

Tilting her head, she muttered, "And he knows we're looking, so his routine's going to change. I'm betting he already ditched his ride for a new one. We're gonna find it in a parking lot somewhere." She thought to the skeleton crew the DPD was working with right now, and leaned back, complaining, "Doesn't help that the department's patrol team is basically three guys with cameras and whatever SID can lend right now."

_That_ was a problem for which Connor believed he had a solution. "Not if you let Markus know about Combs."

She shot a sharp look over at him. He'd already asked this, even before today, and her answer remained the same. "I can't release that information-"

Leaning down, he cut her off with a hushed but urgent voice, "With Captain Fowler's approval, you can. If you tell Jericho about Combs and what he looks like, the victim pool gets smaller and you get more eyes around the city." She started to shake her head, but he persisted. "Markus already knows something's going on. Let me tell him the details."

He had a point, and a part of her agreed. The problem was that it introduced too many variables. This wasn't like what Jericho had dealt with before, and she kept imagining old documentaries in her head, showcasing entire cities falling apart under the fear of serial killings. At least they knew to be alert, but then she thought of androids like North, who could just as easily resort to violence in response to men like Stewart Combs. As much as she hated it, if an android hurt Combs without it being explicit self-defense, the law was protecting _him,_ not them.

Fowler's words that morning were also still ringing in her ears. If any of her decisions backfired now, that was falling on Hank's head. She was trying, harder than she ever had before, to tread carefully.

But Connor had a point, and a significant part of her agreed. Bouncing her foot in frustration, she pointed up and warned him, "If I do this, I need to know that lookouts are _all_ I'm getting. The second this turns into vigilante justice or a protest outside the precinct, we lose control and Combs becomes a martyr."

That made it two arguments won in one day for Connor. Marking the occasion in the back of his mind, he nodded and assured her, "Markus can handle it."

She still wasn't sure about that, but she would trust them. Pushing herself to her feet, she sent him one last, weary glance before turning and walking toward Fowler's office.

* * *

The next few hours were spent coordinating with Markus over a call in SID's office. They would give him Combs' name and photo, and the blocks of Detroit where they knew he had frequented at one time. Markus would have his people avoid those areas and keep an eye on anyone who attempted to approach them. The DPD offered protection, but Markus refused - it would require telling them where they were staying, and with the wounds still fresh, that was a lot to ask.

When the day was over, Andy felt at least a little accomplished. She didn't have anything on Combs, but she felt as though they'd put a dent in his plans. That would have to be enough for now.

Pulling up to the curb outside Hank's home that night, Andy parked her bike and lowered the kickstand. Behind her, Connor climbed off and stood to his feet. He removed the helmet she lent him, and told her, "Thank you for the ride."

She waved off the comment. "Eh. Hey-" She leaned back a little on her bike and pointed to him, saying, "You survived your first day back." With a tilt of her head, she added as an amused afterthought, "Even if you did pout."

He frowned. "I did not pout."

He could see the smile peeking out underneath her bike helmet as she gave an enthusiastic sway of her head. "Like a little baby boy," She chirped. When he started to hold out the helmet, she shook her head, "Keep it here. You're using it all week."

Nodding, he tucked it under his arm and watched her re-position herself on her bike to get ready to ride. "I'm..." She turned to him, and he hesitated. The earlier conversation was over, and maybe he didn't need to bring it up again, but he was still fixated on it. He wanted to make sure it wasn't adding unnecessary stress to her life. "You don't need to worry about my problems with CyberLife."

She hadn't expected the topic, but she gave little reaction to it. With her hands sitting on the handles of her bike, she asked him, "What would you do if I told _you_ not to worry about some big secret I was trying to protect you from?"

He started to argue it wouldn't have been the same, but he knew she would say it was exactly the same, and she would have been right. He gave her proposition a serious moment of thought; He would have hated knowing he was powerless to help her. He would refuse to let it stay that way. "I wouldn't rest," He admitted.

Having expected him to argue or deny the comparison, the confession surprised her. She shifted on the bike before plastering a shaky smile on her face. "And I'm more stubborn than you, so think about that," She joked.

As she lifted the kickstand, another memory occurred to him. It had been sitting in the furthest recess of his mind, puzzling him, all day. "What did your neighbor mean when she..." Andy looked up at him, waiting for him to finish his question, and he felt a sudden waves of nerves. "Never mind," He finally decided.

Thankfully, she would not push. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Drive safely."

* * *

"I just need talk to the other former employees. I mean, someone has to know something. Everybody's got a friend, or a cousin, or that one co-worker who keeps sticking his nose into your business, right? I just got to find _him_. He'll tell me what I need to know."

Andy sat on a long couch in an unfamiliar office, her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped together in front of her face. She stared straight ahead, but her eyes were glazed over as she rambled.

"Guys like this? They don't hide their motives. They _brag_ about them. They think they're doing the world a favor and they want gratitude. Someone knew Stewart Combs was on the edge of doing something stupid, and I just have to find _that_ person."

"Detective Hope."

She blinked several times, at last noticing the woman sitting across from her. Dema Nazarian was a well dressed woman with immaculate, intimidating posture. She sat with one knee over the other, and until now she'd been watching Andy with raised brows.

"Yeah?" Andy asked.

Nazarian's attention was exacting, but patient. "We're ten minutes into your first session, and I know more about your case than I know about you," She explained.

This was true, but Andy was fine that. "We're one more body away from this becoming a serial killing. Shouldn't I be focused?" She retorted. When the doctor's expression quietly persisted, Andy quipped, "Disapproving stares are my favorite form of communication."

It got no obvious reaction, so she sighed. "I don't know where to start," She admitted, leaning back on the couch. At least it was a nice couch.

Doctor Nazarian finally smiled. She relaxed, swaying a heeled foot as she mused, "The beginning usually works."

It was Andy's turn to be unamused. "Are all therapists comedians or just the ones I get to deal with?"

Shrugging, Nazarian replied, "I can be more direct if you prefer." The woman slid a hand under her open, and currently empty, journal. "So you've dealt with therapists before?"

Andy diverted her gaze. "My mom," She said softly.

"How's your relationship with her?"

"It's good," She said, hands fidgeting in her lap. "I haven't been able to see her in a few years, with all the work stuff."

"Have you talked to her about any of it?"

Andy gave a visible scoff, "God, no. She'd just go into shrink mode."

"Did she do that when your father died?"

The question shocked her, and she jostled herself, shaking her head as though to reset herself. "Wow, okay. Straight for the jugular," She exclaimed.

At this, Nazarian grinned and retorted, "Well, you didn't want the comedian."

* * *

When Andy made it to her apartment that night, she was sure she was the only one in the building still awake. She rested her head against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed as she listened to the hum of the mechanisms lifting her up each floor. The metal was cold on her back, and the stillness of everything was soothing to her headache.

The day hadn't even been that exciting, but she was exhausted. Her mind was swirling with the red ice case, and Stewart Combs, and Jericho meeting with CyberLife, and Connor keeping secrets from her. Throwing therapy on top of that seemed so stupid now.

Stupid, but necessary. As tired and messy as life was now, it was also a little more stable. This was her way to find normalcy, to cope - to maybe not lie to her neighbors for no reason, or not treat her friend like he was a suspect.

The elevator opened and she kicked off the railing. She walked down the hall, slipping off her beanie to run a hand through tangled hair. As she came to a slow stop at her door, she reached into her pocket for her keys. It wasn't until she twisted the knob that she noticed a piece of paper stuck to the surface of the door.

'_Taking out the trash isn't murder, Miss Hope. Stay out of my way._'


	15. Equality and Sacrifice

**November 23, 2038**

Andy was to have two appointments each week with Doctor Nazarian, and at the end of December, adjustments would be made to her counseling. She stared down at her phone now, a confirmation for the next session having been recently sent to her. It was on the day before Thanksgiving, which was a good thing, as her mother would no doubt have her on the phone most of the holiday.

"Welcome back, Hank."

She hid her phone away upon hearing Ben, and found Hank and Connor walking through the precinct. As they approached, she leaned her chair back and grinned. "Good morning."

Hank stood behind his desk and delivered a hard, grouchy stare. "Kiss my ass," He told her.

It didn't faze her any. After three slow days on her own and not much to show for it other than several dead ends, Andy was glad to have him there. Even if he was complaining already.

She and Connor shared a silent greeting as Hank went on to grumble, "There's a damn media circus outside, waiting on Jericho to show up. Bunch of vultures." Draping his jacket over the top of his seat, he nodded his head toward Fowler's office and asked, "Those the CyberLife reps?"

She leaned her head around to look to the other side of the bullpen. Through the glass walls of the captain's office, they could see three figures speaking to the man at his desk. One was a familiar enough face - it had almost been a full week since Danielle Carnegie argued against Connor's freedoms in that same room.

"Got here a few minutes ago," Andy answered. With a mocking smile, she added, "They have _demands._"

Hank snorted, sitting down. "Shocking."

Connor remained beside the desks and watched the scene. The two men with Carnegie were unfamiliar to him, but based on their appearance and their briefcases, he assumed them to be lawyers. "Markus is on his way. Apparently there was a disagreement regarding who would accompany him," He commented.

"Y'know, for a couple of androids, you'd think they'd have their shit a little more together," Hank observed, turning on his computer.

He hadn't met North, Andy thought to herself, but she brushed off his comment and focused on Connor. "How are you doing?"

He shook his head. "I went over Jericho's plans in the car ride here. I've prepared them for every argument I can predict CyberLife will make, but I can't be certain I've thought of everything."

"You'll be fine," Hank dismissed.

Connor turned to respond, but his LED went yellow as a message reached him. He straightened his back and his hands went to his collar in an attempt to smooth out his blazer. "They're here."

Andy and Hank watched him as he continued to stand there, unmoving and blank faced. They shared an uncertain glance before Andy pushed up to her feet. She slid past him, slapping him on the arm. His eyes darted to her as she passed by, and he jumped to follow her.

The sight of Markus and Josh in the lobby of the DPD was an interesting one. Every press outlet in Detroit was stationed outside the steps of the front doors, cameras honed in through the glass doors and windows. The few civilians in the lobby kept to their corners on the chairs by the walls, but eyed them with curiosity and bundles of nerves.

Coming through the doorway, Andy crossed the lobby and called out, "Hey."

They turned toward her, and Markus smiled when he saw the familiar detective. "Andy, it's good to see you again," He said, meeting her halfway, "I hope you weren't in too much trouble after the protests?"

Shrugging, she joked, "Turns out I wrote the will for nothing." He chuckled, and she ushered them into the bullpen. "I'll take you to Captain Fowler."

They greeted Connor, who remained awkwardly behind her, and the group began their walk through the precinct. They neared the office, and saw the representatives still inside. "CyberLife, I take it?" Markus asked.

"That's them," Andy nodded, "Already trying to kiss Fowler's ass."

As they reached the office, the man himself took note of them. He stood from his desk and brushed past his visitors to leave, and they followed. Everyone convened just outside the room, a meeting all of DPD had stopped to watch.

Before Fowler could speak, Danielle Carnegie stepped up to Markus. She was front and center of her group, and she introduced only herself. "Danielle Carnegie, CyberLife Representative. You must be Markus."

He nodded, and held out a hand for her to shake. "I am."

That was the moment Andy felt deserved to go in a history book. Carnegie looked down at this android's hand, almost surprised it had been offered, and the men behind her certainly seemed bemused by the display. Markus stood strong, unwavering in his bid for coexistence and civility. While CyberLife may have looked to be the elite corporation running the show, Markus had been the one to extend the first olive branch, in more ways than one. It made a very loud statement.

Straining on a tight smile, Carnegie finally put her hand in his. She looked to Fowler for intervention, so he cleared his throat and waved a hand toward the hallway leading to the back rooms. They filed past him, but when Connor failed to do so, Fowler narrowed his eyes. "The meeting's that way."

Connor shifted, nervous under the scrutiny. He hadn't told Fowler his plan to avoid CyberLife, but it didn't occur to him he would need to. "I won't be joining the meeting-"

"The hell you won't," Fowler started. Leaning forward, he spoke quietly so that the others couldn't hear him, "This was your idea. If I have to sit through this shit, so do _you_."

Still beside him, Andy's eyes darted down to the floor as Connor's miffed stare shifted to her. Rather than call her out as the true mastermind, he bit out a quiet confirmation of the order and began to walk by. "You got this," She whispered to him, but his head snapped back to glare. It was more of a pout, Andy thought, but she offered a smile and a thumbs up as he left with the others.

* * *

The conference room in the back of the DPD was the most sterile, and soundproof, room in the building. A large rectangular table occupied most of the space, with a TV screen on each of the end walls. The wall that ran along the hallway was made entirely of glass, and much like Fowler's office, could frost over and hide the room with a single switch.

CyberLife stood at the side of the table near the doors, Carnegie in the middle of her associates. On the opposite side was Markus, with Josh on his left and Connor, reluctantly, to his right. Fowler was at the end of the table, and had just finished detailing the limit of his involvement in this meeting. He was not on either side, and was only there to ensure things were done genuinely.

It was Markus to speak first afterward. "I'd like to thank CyberLife for agreeing to this meeting, Miss Carnegie. I recognize how hard it was to do."

She considered him and his comment, and then said, "Just so you know where we stand on this, we weren't initially going to." Glancing to the man at her right, she went on, "Our legal council advised us, however, that we need to know what the world will look like should the worst come to pass."

Markus paused. "The worst?"

She nodded as though it were obvious, as though he was ignorant for asking. "Freedom for androids, of course."

He leaned back, now with a clear picture of exactly where CyberLife stood on the issue. He knew this was going to be a difficult meeting, and any amount of success was improbable, but hearing it so bluntly was a surprise. He regained his composure, though, and said, "Just so you know where _we_ stand, Miss Carnegie, we have no intention of giving up until we make your... worst-case scenario a reality."

"Now seeing as we walked in here with the support of most of this nation and with no fuss from the DPD, for which I also extend my gratitude," He nodded to Fowler on his right, then returned to her, "I think it's in everyone's best interest for us to discuss this as if rights for androids are certain."

They stared one another down. Where Carnegie was uncomfortable and exasperated, Markus was stubborn and collected.

She looked to her lawyer and nodded. Clearing his throat, he finally stated, "The following discussion is hypothetical until the President of the United States declares androids intelligent life. Nothing we agree upon today will be binding or see fruition until then."

"_If_ that time comes," Carnegie tensely interjected.

There was another pause, but Markus nodded. It was the best they would get. "Jericho accepts this."

* * *

"What do you think they're talking about?"

At their desks in the bullpen, Hank scoffed and looked up from his computer. He'd been reading over the files Andy gathered on Stewart Combs and the man's contacts. While she waited for him to finish, Andy was swiveling in her chair and watching the hallway she'd seen Jericho and CyberLife travel.

She was bugging him. "How the hell should I know?" He asked her, scowling.

She shrugged and started to reply, but Chris Miller leaned around the cubicle divider and knocked on the wall. "We got a homicide. 400 Monroe Street."

Gesturing toward him, Hank told Andy, "Now there's something I _do_ know."

She smirked at the comment as she threw her feet off her desk. They both stood and grabbed their jackets, when a gunshot rang out in front of the Detroit Police Department.

The next ten seconds were a blur. Everyone who worked at the DPD had kicked into gear, and were retrieving their firearms. Amid the screams of the public, Andy yelled at Chris to bring them bulletproof vests. Civilians were rushed inside, under the safety of cover, and officers lined the street to secure the perimeter.

Someone was hit. Two officers were pulling a camera man inside, blood seeping through the shirt at his sleeve. Joss Douglas was right behind them, carrying the man's equipment and keeping his head low. The receptionist was on the phone with dispatch, requesting ambulances.

Gavin Reed stood over the wounded camera man, and yelled to anyone who would listen, "Where was he standing?"

Shaking, Joss pointed to just outside the doors. "He- He was in front of the steps, recording the doors!"

Andy had moved to the entrance, eyes on the parking garage across the street. She couldn't see movement, but it was the only logical place he could have stationed himself. "He's on the roof," She called.

Chris made it to the lobby with a number of vests in his arms. She and Hank took two off him, but as Andy put hers on, Hank tossed his toward Gavin, who caught it with ease.

"Go!"

* * *

The group in the conference room was unaware of the excitement taking place down the hall. They had taken their seats at the table, and began going down the list of things Jericho wanted from CyberLife.

The second man with Carnegie turned out to be an accountant. He was proving to be the biggest challenge, much to Jericho's dismay, as he had shot down everything so far. If they wanted anything, they would have to either get through to him, or bypass him altogether.

"We cannot provide biocomponents to every broken android," He stressed to them, a disbelieving huff accompanying the rejection.

Josh leaned forward, asking, "Why not?"

"Because they need to make money," Connor answered for CyberLife. The androids with him looked over in surprise. It was the first time he said anything since the start of the meeting. He'd been watching the three CyberLife representatives like a hawk until that point, trying to understand what each of their roles were in this meeting. It was becoming increasingly obvious CyberLife was only here as a show of good will for publicity.

Carnegie nodded, confirming his observation. "Which I doubt any of you have," She chided them before gaining a tiny, amused smile. "Think what you want of us, but we _are_ a business. Not even healthcare is free."

As the conversation continued, Fowler's phone started to vibrate in his pocket.

There was a strain in Markus' voice as he said, "We can't pay for anything without opportunity to earn."

Carnegie almost laughed. "Now you suggest we give you jobs?"

'_10-99_' shone up at Fowler from the text on his phone, and Connor was the only one to notice the shift on his face. He stood quickly enough for his legs to shove into his chair, and the noise stopped the conversation short. "Give me a moment," He said before striding out of the room.

Sitting straighter, Carnegie held up her hands in a bewildered shrug as she watched him leave. "Excuse me- Captain Fowler-!"

This wasn't just an excuse to leave, though Connor had been wanting one. He stood from his own seat and was hot on the captain's trail, silently leaving the room before the door had even shut behind the man.

Carnegie was stunned. She slowly looked from her associates and then to Jericho, the group she'd now been left alone with in the conference room. Realizing this, Markus put on a polite smile and asked, "Shall we continue?"

* * *

After locking down the parking garage to keep anyone from coming or going, Andy and Gavin led a group of officers through the structure. It was quiet but tense work, and they communicated with various hand signs to direct the officers around corners and to hold the floors as they finished each sweep.

Making it to the roof, the two detectives posted themselves at either side of the door. Andy nodded, and Gavin reached for the knob, twisting it open and giving the door one solid push. Andy's weapon went out first, and when no one was in the immediate vicinity, she stepped out onto the top floor of the garage.

Gavin left next, and the three officers they still had with them left after him. While one remained at the doorway, everyone else covered the roof, searching for signs of life. Andy was the one to hit the corner that was closest to the DPD, and when she found no one there, she approached the side.

Propped against the half-wall of the ledge was a dead android. She knelt beside him, examining the deep indent along the right side of his head, and arms that were only still attached due to the cables. '_DEATH TO ANDROIDS_' was painted on his forehead in thirium. This kill was quicker. He didn't have time to carve his calling card.

The others cleared their areas, and they all went to meet at the doors. When Andy wasn't there, they went looking for her. She heard their footsteps and looked back as they turned the corner, coming upon a scene that would sit with them for a long while.

* * *

"How much of your staff were already android employees before the march?" Markus questioned. It was mostly rhetorical. He knew the answer - many of those employees were part of Jericho now.

It was a good effort, Carnegie thought, but a fruitless one. Her smirk said as much as she dismissed his inquiry. "There's a forty-seven percent unemployment rate in this country. Staff is the least of our concern."

He nodded, but didn't let it go. "All right. You say you're a business, so look at it pragmatically. With human staff, you'd have to train new employees and offer benefits. Our people already know the work, and the only benefits they need would come directly from your own factories. All we want is payment in exchange for our labor."

For the briefest of moments, it seemed Carnegie was giving it some consideration. Her delay in responding to him led the lawyer at her side to lean forward. "Is this before or after you also demand reparations?" He asked, snide.

* * *

When Andy and Gavin returned to the department, Fowler was standing with Connor and his lieutenants. He saw them come in from the lobby, and waved them over to the group.

They were approaching as Gavin began his report to the captain. "Parking garage was empty. We got guys circling the area, but I don't think we're catching this asshole any time soon."

Beside him, Andy added, "There was a dead android on the roof. Ben's bringing him in now, but my money's on Stewart Combs."

Combs was fast becoming a bogeyman in the department, and if he was going after humans now, it was Fowler's primary concern brought to life. Detroit was going to be reduced to a panic, and soon. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, Fowler cursed his breath and thought over their next move. "Okay, where's Douglas?"

"At the hospital with the camera guy. I had him leave his equipment behind," Hank answered.

Richards was already moving away from the group as he said, "I'll see if I can get any footage off the camera."

Fowler nodded in approval, and then leaned in to look at those who stayed in front of him. Despite the fact the conference room was on the other end of the building, he kept his voice low, as though they might hear anyway. "I want this quiet. No one in that meeting down the hall can know about this until I say so."

He pointed between Hank and Gavin, saying, "Whatever case you two had goes to Reed. I want you at Combs' house. See if he's been back since CSI let it go."

"I should go with them." They looked to Connor, who explained, "Maybe I can find something they can't."

Fowler wasn't in the mood to care about policy or argue with an android. With a heavy sigh, he nodded and waved them off. As everyone dispersed, he headed to meet with the officers out on the street.

* * *

Reparations were no doubt going to be the most complicated part of the CyberLife meeting, and Markus had hoped to hold it in his pocket until he made more progress. With the topic now breached, he had little choice but to tell them what Jericho wanted to demand.

"Our people want a place they can call their own."

Throwing up a hand as he looked down to his paperwork, the lawyer huffed, "And here it is."

Josh's eyes narrowed at the man, but he refrained from any outburst. There was a reason he was with Markus and not North. "CyberLife has warehouses they used to store androids. They've been empty since the march."

"And who would maintain those buildings? Jericho, or CyberLife?" Carnegie questioned.

"CyberLife made us, they should be responsible for helping us," He replied, unable to keep some of a frustrated edge out of his tone.

Markus spoke up. "We have no intentions of seeking long term help. We just want to live our lives, independently. That means work, travel, and our own homes."

Carnegie turned her attention to her accountant. He looked over his work on the table, and then to the androids. Hesitant to know the answer, he asked, "How long would you want funding?"

"Five years."

* * *

Hank and Connor had never been to the Combs residence. When they climbed out of his car, Hank strolled his way to the front door, and took his time examining the porch. "So this is Combs' place, huh?"

Andy glanced out to the grass, now no longer maintained by the neighbor. "With an uglier yard," She remarked. He snorted as they walked into the house.

It was immediately clear to them that he'd been back to his home. The kitchen alone was a big enough sign, with crumpled grocery bags and old takeout boxes on the dining table and overflowing in the trash-can. Hank waved to the scene, saying, "Judging by the junk food, I'd say he's been here since CSI."

"There's quite a bit of thirium," Connor called out, looking to the living room where pools of blue blood had stained the carpet. "It's all old."

Thinking to what she saw of the android on the roof, Andy said, "The android from today was probably killed on the way to the shooting."

"Wonder if it was planned or if the poor bastard just saw something he shouldn't have," Hank pondered, moving across the room to the stairs.

He left to the second floor while Andy searched the kitchen. Connor went into the bathroom, and peeked his head out seconds later. "There's hair in the trashcan. He shaved recently."

Andy wasn't surprised. Holding the fridge open, she said, "Yeah, the milk's not even expired. He just came back like he was living a normal life."

She walked away from it, and Connor began searching the contents of the drawers. She slowed in her movement, watching him with pursed lips and a thoughtful stare. She didn't want to push too hard again, but there was a question lingering in her mind. "So does Markus know you're not at the station?" She asked.

He didn't look up at her, still sifting through papers in the drawer. "You heard the captain. He doesn't want them or CyberLife knowing about this."

It was one thing to keep secrets from her, but she suspected it was another entirely to keep them from Jericho. Whatever he thought of Andy or whatever he thought he had to protect her from - that didn't apply for Markus. He _needed_ to know if something was wrong, and Connor's actions were looking more like fear or guilt than they were nobility.

"Connor," She called, finally getting his attention. She shook her head, mumbling, "Come on, man. You got to talk to him."

Maybe she was right, but he would decide that later. He was quiet as he turned away from her, and stood to his feet. "I'll see if Hank's found anything upstairs," He finally said.

She scoffed and watched him climb the stairs, yelling after him, "You're gonna talk eventually!"

Shaking her head, she returned to her task. There was a side room to the den, which appeared to be an office. Most of the bookshelves had been emptied by CSI by now, and a desk was sitting under a shuttered window on the far wall. To the right was a closed roll-top desk, a painting of an ocean placed above it. The roll-top was closed, and she was met with resistance upon trying to open it.

The flat desk was covered in loose papers, all of which had to be recent. CSI would have confiscated them otherwise. Some were delirious ramblings, and others were printed maps and scribbled plans. There were profiles on reporters like Joss Douglas - likely the true target of today's shooting - and other people like CyberLife employees, Jericho leaders, and President Warren herself.

It was the workings of a man who was going to take down half the country, if he had his way.

She opened each drawer to that desk, finding most empty or home to trivial office supplies and electrical parts. It was the bottom drawer that held a key. She went back to the roll-top and tried it in the lock, hearing it open as she turned it.

She grabbed the two handles to lift the case, but felt it strike something hard - and then she heard a click.

* * *

Upstairs, Connor entered the bedroom Hank was searching. The lieutenant held up one of many candles, saying, "He wasn't even turning on his lights in case the neighbors saw something." Scoffing, he muttered, "For all we know, he came back the second the tape went down."

"Based on the amount, that seems accurate," Connor confirmed, looking at the array of candles around the room. Combs had been prepared for this, to hide for an extended period of time.

Shaking his head, Hank complained, "I knew SID should have put up surveillance nearby, but _no,_ that's too many resources."

Connor was looking out the window when he replied, "SID is already stretched thin. Until the Captain knows how he should handle androids, I can't blame him."

Hank stopped in his investigation, and turned to eye Connor. They hadn't talked much lately. Connor was gone most of the past few days, and Hank was on paid leave. Even so, he noticed how Connor had been acting. He was unsettled by something, and he wasn't letting anyone in on it.

"How was that meeting going, anyway?" Hank asked, skirting around the main issue.

Thinking to what he'd heard before he left, Connor wasn't sure. "Jericho has many requests. I doubt CyberLife will approve most of them."

Waving toward him, Hank asked, "What happened to that optimistic jackass you been lately?"

Connor frowned. "The public is one thing, but CyberLife doesn't feel the same way. They don't have anyone's best interest in mind but their own," He stated, perhaps the closest he'd been to being truthful about CyberLife.

It didn't sit right with Hank. Connor risked a lot to help Jericho, and now that the first hurdle was overcome, he was keeping his distance. Hank felt like they were back to the way things were weeks ago, when Connor was letting deviants run away but refusing to admit why.

"Hey, Connor, come take a look at this!" Andy yelled from downstairs, cutting their conversation in the bedroom short.

* * *

Hitting the bottom step in the living room, Connor called out, "Andy?"

"In here."

He followed the voice to the office. "What is it?" He asked, crossing through the doorway.

She stood at the roll-top desk, and was halfway through opening the lid. She remained in that exact position, like a moment frozen in time, and she didn't let go or turn away as he came into view. She wasn't moving so much as a muscle, in fact, and she spoke quietly. "I need you to look inside this desk."

His brows were furrowing as he approached her. She hadn't explained anything, and he started to kneel beside her, doing as she asked. "I don't...," He trailed off.

Inside the desk, at the very back, was a mechanism built out of spare parts and an old world landmine. A pressure plate at the top had been depressed, the bomb had not detonated, and the situation only remained so because Andy kept a steady hand on the roll-top handles.

It was a fear like no other.

"Andy...," He started, his voice soft and low.

It didn't help keep her calm, but it did confirm what she already knew. "Fuck," She gasped out, eyes closing.

His hand went toward her, but he didn't touch her, afraid it would make her jump. "Don't... move," He ordered.

If she could have given a dramatic nod, she would have, but her sarcastic tone would have to do. "Yeah, got that," She exclaimed.

He stood to his feet, and looked down at her. She was staring ahead with a hard expression, trying to control her breathing. "I'll be right back," He whispered. He gave her a moment to process his words before he turned and left the room, yelling, "Hank!"

The lieutenant was on the stairs seconds later, coming down to the first floor. "What is it?"

Connor met him at the foot of the stairs, and told him, "You need to leave."

"What?" Hank scoffed.

"Andy triggered a bomb in the office."

There was no good way to say it, as Hank was always going to react the same. Eyes going wide, he yelled, "What?! Andy-"

He tried to bolt for the office, but Connor's hand went against his chest and he shoved the man back toward the wall with ease. He was firm, holding up a hand to stop him as he said, "You need to evacuate this block and call for bomb squad." Lowering his voice, he told Hank, "I need her to calm down, and she needs to know you're safe."

Hank had a feeling that he was leaving that house, willing or not - Connor would drag him out if he had to. "Andy?" He called.

"I'm fine. Just get out of here, Hank."

As much as he hated it, he moved for the front door, and went for his phone.

* * *

Normalcy was returning to the DPD, though not completely. An ambulance was parked outside, and officers spoke with the scared civilians who'd been witness to a sniper. Some of the news outlets jumped into work, and all along the sidewalk outside the department, reporters were speaking into their cameras.

Lieutenant Richards left the SID office, heading for Fowler's office with a datapad in hand. He was waved in, the door shut behind him, and they discussed the contents on the pad. On Fowler's desk, his phone started to ring. The conversation paused as he answered the call, and Richards watched his expression change.

Fowler jumped up from his desk and didn't have to say much to Richards to get him moving as quickly. The door to his office burst open and the two men stormed out. A few officers looked up at the sound, and saw Fowler run for the first time in years.

* * *

A small knock on the conference room door pulled Jericho and CyberLife from the contentious debate that was brewing between them. Chris Miller stepped inside, and walked up to the edge of the table. "I was told to check in on everyone," He told them.

"Where is Captain Fowler?" Carnegie asked, frustrated.

Chris knew she wasn't going to like it, but he wasn't allowed to tell them much. "Something came up, and he had to take care of it immediately," He answered.

He was right; they weren't happy. Before they could protest, Markus interrupted them, declaring, "I recognize you."

Chris looked to him and nodded. He was hesitant, but eventually explained, "I was the responding officer at Capital Park. You... told them not to shoot me."

"Right, that's it."

It had been a pivotal night for Jericho, both in the public's eye and internally. They lost androids to officers like Chris Miller, but Markus called the rest of them off. They could steal from warehouses, break into storefronts, and take news stations hostage, but bloodshed was the line he wouldn't cross. Everyone doubted him for that, including himself. It didn't feel like a victory to walk away, not until the next morning, when they saw the news channels covering the peaceful rescue of store androids.

"I, uh..." Chris cleared his throat. "My wife just gave birth three months ago. I was sure I wasn't going to get to see either of them again, so..." It felt so presumptuous, being grateful they hadn't done what he did. "Thank you."

If Markus thought the same, he didn't show it. He shook his head, saying, "There's nothing to thank me for. We've always wanted peace."

With a small jolt, the officer turned to the CyberLife representatives. "Do you... need anything?"

Having been bystanders to a scene not meant for them, they didn't reply right away. The lawyer cleared his throat, attempting to brush off the awkward atmosphere. "Lunch would be nice."

* * *

"So... want to explain why you've been so weird about Jericho?"

In Combs' office, Connor was on his knees, looking inside the desk. He wanted to keep on eye on the mine, and maybe find a way to disarm it. It was designed to work differently than a usual mine; rather than detonate immediately, it was meant to delay until its release. Although it was their saving grace, it concerned Connor. Combs wanted someone to _know_ what was about to happen to them. He was toying with them more than he was protecting himself.

Just as she'd been told to do, Andy remained still beside him. The silence had started to get too much for her, though. She needed to be as far away from her thoughts as possible, and what better thing to focus on than Connor?

He shot her an incredulous glance. "You want to do this now?"

"You rather I wait till after I blow up?"

He glared at her, his disapproval intense. "That _isn't_ funny," He scolded.

She rolled her eyes, believing that if anyone could decide whether or not her situation was funny, it would be her. "You androids are so hard to please," She mused. He started to turn back to the desk, but she called his name, and he saw her frown. With a shaky gulp, she pleaded, "Distract me."

Her expression stopped him from refusing her.

It occurred to him, then, that trying to protect Andy Hope was a bit like trying to put out a forest fire with a watering can. Where he kept one piece of drama away from her, she would find other trouble all on her own - keeping her away from CyberLife was doing nothing but delaying the inevitable.

It wasn't the only reason he'd been keeping it from her, but trying to hide his personal crisis from Andy Hope was a bit like doing the impossible, too.

"CyberLife was trying to reprogram me," He confessed.

She blinked a few times as the information processed through the adrenaline and anxiety from the bomb in her grasp. The shock came mixed with confusion and concern, and finally she asked, "They can do that?"

"Apparently they allowed androids to deviate in the first place. They were manufacturing a crisis," He explained. It was odd to talk about it freely now, but there was some relief in being able to express his thoughts. "I suspect they have ulterior motives for agreeing to meet with Jericho."

She took it all in, successfully and enthusiastically absorbing herself in something other than her current problems. "Does Markus know about this?"

"I'm worried what will happen if I tell him," He shook his head. This was the part he was truly reluctant to discuss. It led nowhere good. With a worsening frown, he went on, "How far does CyberLife's plan go? Is 'deviating' just a convincing part of our programming?"

How much of this was real, and how much of the chaos had hinged on his shoulders from the very beginning?

"Hey-" Andy started, demanding he look up at her. She couldn't begin to understand the implications of all this, at least right now, and she wasn't naive enough to think she knew how any of it felt, but she knew Connor. She knew what his actions and that dejected look on his face meant. "What are you feeling? Right now?"

It seemed irrelevant, and counterproductive, for him to say. "You wanted me to distract you from the current situation," He started to argue.

Pouting down at him, she pushed, "Answer the question."

After a long, heavy pause, he told her, "I'm scared."

She nodded as though it was obvious. "That's real. They can't manufacture _that_. You know you're alive and you already know CyberLife made it possible, so who cares if it was intentional or why they did it?" Looking him in the eyes, she told him softly, "You get to decide why you're alive, not them."

He said nothing to this. She thought she upset him or failed to get through to him as he turned toward the desk, but then he stood to his feet and moved back. There was a course of panic at the thought she was being left there, and she resisted turning her head to follow sight of him. "Where are you going?"

Not but a second later, he stepped up just behind her. From over her shoulder, he promised her, "I'm not going anywhere." She nodded, staring down at the roll-top lid in her hands. "I'm taking your place."

Quickly, she shook her head, "What? No-"

"I can hold still longer than you can," He said.

With a scoff, she argued, "Yeah, well you aren't coming back from the dead anymore."

"You never were."

Her head snapped back to him in surprise. At the sight of a faint smirk on his lips, she huffed. "And you chastise _me_ for the jokes."

"Andy," He called, quieting her. The smirk was gone as he told her, "If you don't do this, I'm just going to stand beside you until this is resolved." He was moving, slow and careful not to disturb the desk as he placed his palm over her hand. "Please let me do this."

Despite the half of her that was demanding she not put this on him, she knew he was right. Standing still, holding everything in place and maintaing that pressure - that was nothing for him. After a long period of consideration, she gave a shaky nod.

His fingers wrapped around the space left on the handle, and he tightened his grip. "Let go," He whispered.

She did so and they paused, waiting for any reaction. When nothing happened, she stepped to the side and they repeated the process with the second handle. She moved away, letting him take her place fully at the desk, but lingered near him. "Connor-"

"Go outside with Hank," He interrupted. Smiling, he nodded and said, "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Hank was pacing on the sidewalk by his car when he spotted movement by the front door. Andy emerged from the house, descending the steps two at a time.

"Andy?" He moved to meet her in the yard, wrapping his arms around her in a hug she was quick to return.

She was gasping for breath. She realized now how heavy she'd been controlling it in there. "Connor- we swapped places-"

He looked from her to the house, understanding what she meant. "Jesus...," He pulled apart but kept a hand at her back, urging her toward the car. "Come on. Bomb squad's on the way."

* * *

Carnegie's associates removed their blazers at some point during the meeting. The accountant had rolled up his sleeves, and the lawyer's chair inched further away from his team as he leaned into it. At the unoccupied end of the table were empty takeout boxes that once contained lunch. Carnegie remained stoic, unfazed by the extended duration of the meeting or the stuffiness of the room.

"What about production? If I recall correctly, you want control over those facilities," She asked, commenting on the demands Markus once made on national television.

Markus nodded. He and Josh were faring much better than her partners, though that was no surprise. "We do."

The accountant wore a bemused smile. "Do you have any idea how many jobs would be lost to that? For all your claims of equality, so far all I see are demands that would throw families out on the street," He accused, losing what little patience he had left.

"Once we gain equal rights, those people may be lose their jobs anyway," Markus leaned forward, asking each of them, "Or are you telling me here and now that CyberLife will continue production? And if you do, can you ensure that you'll create all androids equally, with the same capability for intelligence and diversity?"

None of them would respond, which was telling enough. With a scoff, the lawyer dropped his pen to the table and stated, "CyberLife is the largest corporation in today's America. We are not simply handing it over to a couple of..."

"Androids?" Josh urged.

"_Ro__gue_ androids," Carnegie bit. She glanced to the lawyer, and shook her head. Crossing one leg over the other and straightening her back, she mused, "You seem to think your goals are universal, and we're just your movie villains, here to ruin the day."

They certainly seemed that from where Jericho was sitting.

The lighter tone disappeared as she contended, "We don't know you. We don't know any of you- or what you want in the long term. How long is it until you start demanding more? What do your politics look like? And you want total control over the very thing that creates more of you, tips the population in your favor."

She barked a cynical laugh, and ended with a single question. "When does the anti-human android begin its presidential campaign?"

There was a long pause. Her partners refused to break the silence she'd created, but Markus and Josh turned to one another. Finally, Markus countered, "You mean when do _you_ become _us_?"

Carnegie said nothing, but she faltered briefly, before steeling herself and leaning back in her chair.

* * *

Bomb squad set up a tent on the street in front of Combs' house. The rest of the road had been blocked off, and civilians still in their homes were escorted away to a safe distance. Hank stood under the tent, in a conversation with Richards, Fowler, and the bomb disposal unit. Andy informed him of what she managed to find before the bomb, of the plans and profiles on various targets, and he was relaying the information to the others.

She avoided them. She sat sideways n the passenger's seat of Hank's car, with the door open and her feet flat on the pavement. His jacket rested over her shoulders, and she tuned out all of the ruckus going on around her. It was all too much, especially when Connor was still inside.

Once he finished talking to the others, Hank returned to her. He stood beside the door, hands in his pockets as he stared at the house with her. "Richards is sending some officers to the hospital to make sure Douglas is all right."

"What about the FBI?" She muttered. No matter what she thought of them for the time being, they needed to be the first call.

"Fowler's getting on the phone with them now," Hank answered, followed by a snort. "They're gonna have a field day with this one."

Hearing a door slam open, they looked over to see a complex metal robot wheeling itself down the ramp of a truck. It was slow but steady, and it wheeled its way toward the house.

* * *

Connor remained where Andy had left him, staring down at the roll-top desk.

He was dwelling on their conversation, because despite her suspicion otherwise, she had gotten through to him. It didn't fix everything, not that he ever expected her words to do that, and there were a lot of questions that remained. Logically, there were a dozen arguments. She didn't know as much as he did about androids, and he'd seen firsthand what CyberLife was capable of doing.

But maybe she was right in that the answers didn't have to matter as much. For everything CyberLife had done, for all they may have had control over, it wasn't CyberLife that put him in that room.

That was a family he found all on his own. Hank patting him on the shoulder, Andy arguing with him just to prove she could, the shared evenings and the willingness to help each other - that wasn't fake. Trying to protect them, risking his life with little sense to it and for no reason other than caring about those people - those were all things CyberLife could never have planned. That was _him._

So maybe CyberLife had built him and all the others to deviate. That just meant they knew they were creating intelligent life, and that was what Connor would tell Markus if he made it out of this. That was the part that mattered now. The rest was important, and he would need to find those answers, but it didn't take away their lives, or deminish Jericho's purpose.

Hearing rustling in the doorway, he looked to see the robot making its way across the room. At his side, it turned and scanned the gap inside the desk.

* * *

The waiting outside was getting unbearable. Hank started pacing again in frustration, but Andy was quieter than he'd ever seen her. He wouldn't attempt to coax her into talking; the only thing that was going to make the both of them feel better was seeing Connor, safe and alive.

Sometimes, Hank took a step away from his thoughts and really let it sink in how involved an android had become in his life. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around that change in his life, but he didn't often try to. Shit was weird. That was life.

In the open door at the front of the house, the robot rolled out to the porch. It made its descent to the ground, and trekked across the yard to the truck. In its claws was a small contraption, the remains of a disassembled and heavily modified landmine.

Connor was the second body to leave the house, and Andy was the first to move, springing herself out of the car. She threw herself at him as his foot hit the ground, her arms tight around his neck. He hadn't so much as budged from the momentum, but his arms moved to her back as he lowered his face into her shoulder. Hank was not far behind, a hand lowering onto the back of Connor's head and ruffling his hair.

* * *

"CyberLife works in design and retail. What you're asking for- It- It's rebranding an entire company!"

The conference room had been left in a delicate place that they struggled to break past. The accountant continued to entertain Jericho, but the discussion was ultimately going in circles regarding CyberLife's role in the future and Jericho's part to play in the business. He was exasperated, trying to explain why agreeing to any of this would have been foolish.

Carnegie had been silent. She was mulling over something in her head, to the point of ignoring everyone else. Once she spoke again, she seemed to be directing her words more so to her people than to Jericho. "If androids acquire rights, CyberLife will have to do much worse than rebrand."

They turned to her, and she sighed. She clasped her hands together in front of her, and told Markus, "Until we know where androids stand legally in this country, we cannot offer work or produce more of you."

Markus was confused. "The way I understood it, that's the hypothetical we were discussing, was it not?"

She dismissed it, instead asking him, "How much longer can your group last?" When he looked to Josh, she pressed, "One month? Six? Will you be raiding more warehouses for biocomponents, or squatting in property you don't own, becoming a larger menace to society?"

She was trying to provoke him, and were he not prepared for it, it probably would have worked. With narrowed eyes, he denied her. "Public opinion has always been in Jericho's favor. That will not change."

She smirked, the arrogance having been the only emotion she showed all day. "Oh, come now, Markus, CyberLife made you more intelligent than that," She mocked.

Carnegie shifted in her seat, and the smirk left her as she seemed to brace herself for what she was about to say next. "We can offer you a warehouse for Jericho's homing needs as soon as possible."

The men at her side turned in surprise, having no clue where she was going with this, but they would never step in while she had the floor. She knew this, so she went on, "I'll speak with my superiors and suggest bringing on Jericho consultants, to ensure both sides benefit from any future arrangements."

No one moved. It was a shift they didn't expect or understand, and even the lawyer was waiting for the punchline.

Josh was not one to turn away an opportunity. "What about parts for our injured?" He pushed.

She took in a deep breath, but answered, "We can discuss a shipment of thirium, but any hardware will have to wait."

"That..." Markus glanced to the other representatives, then to Josh. "Would be tremendous."

* * *

Once the bomb disposal unit finished a sweep through Combs' home, they let CSI onto the property to collect everything that was left. Everyone else returned to the DPD. While Fowler met with Jericho and CyberLife in the conference room, Andy and Connor stood in the hall, watching.

"What do you think?"

Connor held his hands behind his back, scrutinizing the representatives as they gathered their belongings. "I think CyberLife needs to be watched. Closely," He answered, tilting his head, "But I also believe in what Jericho's fighting for. From here on, I'm going to be more open with Markus."

Andy's lips curled up as she crossed her arms over her chest, but she kept herself to a faint smile. "He'll be happy about that."

Her tone was obvious to anyone who knew her. He could feel the energy radiating, and he frowned. "Just say it."

Smile cracking into a wider grin, she twisted around to face him. "_You_ say it, punk," She demanded.

He snorted as a laugh tried to leave him, but he looked down at her conceded. "You were right."

"That's what I like to hear," She hummed. She turned back to the meeting in the conference room, but Connor remained as he was, watching her.

He expected her to doubt what he was, when he told her about CyberLife. He expected her to go through a similar process to his own. Most people probably would. The robot designed to think it was alive was thinking it was alive. That's what he expected. He didn't know why. Of _course_ she would think there was more to androids than their design. Of _course_ she would place value on who he chose to be. And of _course_ she would brag about it later.

He'd thought it before, what was going through his mind now. She amazed him.

Despite his own distractions, he saw her smile fading. She hadn't realized he was still studying her, but she cleared her throat and asked him, "You want to stay at my place tonight?" She shrugged, a bad attempt at casual. "A change of scenery. Give Hank some peace and quiet." It was a subtle movement when she pulled her arms tighter together, but he noticed it.

She was scared to go home alone. It came with a great warmth to realize that she wanted him there, that he was safety. Smiling a little, he finally looked away to the conference room. "I'd like that."

* * *

Fowler finished going over the basic details of the shooting that, much to the dismay of the DPD's visitors, came and went right under their noses. He gave a few more details about Stewart Combs, and requested that Carnegie get him in touch with CyberLife's security as soon as they were done here.

"While I'm not sure how I feel about all the secrecy, Captain, thank you for your dedication to your work," Carnegie told him, bowing her head for emphasis. With an uncertain glance to the androids across from her, she added, "I think we've made some interesting progress today. This meeting wasn't in vain."

"Yes, I'm glad we're all taking steps in the right direction," Markus agreed.

He didn't know what the hell happened while he was gone, but Fowler wasn't about to complain - or let them stay long enough to start a new war. "That's good to hear." He gestured to the hall, saying, "Detective Hope will walk you all out."

The captain left the room, but Markus had a burning question. He couldn't let CyberLife leave just yet. "Why did you change your mind?"

The trio turned, and the two men with Carnegie looked to her, perhaps wondering exactly the same. She jutted her head toward the door, and as they walked out, she put the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "I was a big fan of Carl Manfred. I met him once, years ago. Purchased a painting," She rambled, holding her hands together in front of her.

Pushing her chair under the table, she stopped and looked up at him. "You sound like him."

It had come out of nowhere, and Markus formed a faint smile. "If I didn't know any better, Miss Carnegie, I'd say that was a compliment."

"A very cautious one, but yes," She agreed, giving a terse nod. "I've also seen how our RK800 has been performing here in the precinct. It's... assimilated far better than we expected," She said, turning halfway to see her associates in the hall, speaking with Andy and Connor.

Markus followed her gaze, and smiled. "I know this isn't easy, but I'm sure this can only be good for everyone."

She paused at that, but looked back at him. "I hope you're right." Nodding to him and Josh, she bid them goodbye. "You'll be hearing from us soon."

* * *

For the first time since she moved, Andy was relieved to walk into the apartment that night. _Means it's home,_ she thought to herself as she tossed her keys onto the coffee table in the living room.

Connor was just behind her, gingerly shutting the door. "Markus tells me they're getting a shipment of thirium by tomorrow evening," He informed once they were in the privacy of the apartment.

"Really?" She asked, removing her jacket.

"North thinks it'll be tampered with, but Markus will ensure it's safe," He nodded, doing the same with his own.

Andy shrugged off the concern and dropped her jacket onto the couch. "It'll be fine. The last thing CyberLife wants is an investigation."

"I agree, at least regarding the thirium," He replied. He reached across her to pick up her jacket, and she watched with a tired amusement as he moved to put both away in the closet. "If they do something, it's going to be bigger than that."

There went the humor. "Comforting," She muttered, turning away.

He shut the closet door as she left to the bathroom. The moonlight shining over the city made the light fixtures unnecessary tonight, and left a peaceful glow over the room. He looked around on his way to sit on the couch, but stopped when he spotted something on the island counter.

"You know, I was thinking about that bomb. You said he-" Andy stumbled to a stop after she left bathroom.

Connor turned to her, holding the note she'd found taped to her door. "When did you get this?"

She wouldn't answer him. "I'm handling it," She tried to assure him as she strode over to take the paper.

He reeled his arm away from her, staring down at her with an increasing level of anger. "He knows where you live, Andy," He stressed, repeating, "When did you get this?"

Her eyes darted up at him, and she finally started, "Four days ago, but it's just a scare tactic-"

"It's a threat!" He exclaimed, "And he's not just going after androids anymore."

Scoffing, she retorted, "Well we know that _now_!"

"Why didn't you tell me about this?"

Leaning away, she rolled her eyes and snapped, "I had the weirdest thought in my head that you'd react badly. No idea why; I mean, you only took hold of a _bomb_ for me today!" Waving one hand back and forth while the other went to her hip, she said, "But you're right, I should have told you. Honesty's so important after all. How you doin' after CyberLife tried to _reprogram_ you?"

He was _not_ letting her turn this around on him, especially when he'd just come clean hours earlier. "I was trying to protect you-"

"You're not the only one who gets to do that!" She shouted. A second later, her expression softened. Her shoulders dropped, and she lowered her head into her palm as she let out an airy laugh.

He watched her a moment, and then stated, "You're laughing." He didn't understand her. They were in the middle of an argument, one he believed to be serious. She was as ready to bite back at him as he was to yell at her for keeping this a secret, and yet there she was, her investment in the the fight gone.

"Oh, am I?" She asked, looking up at him. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't angry either. He didn't know _what_ she was. Lowering her arms, she explained, "We did the same thing and we're yelling at each other for it."

He shook his head, a knee-jerk refusal. "It's not the same. You've done more than enough for me."

"You almost died today, Connor. That's...," She trailed off, gaze drifting away from him. _That_ was an expression he knew: guilt. Looking down, she mumbled, "It's the same thing."

He wanted to remind her that he was okay, and to tell her he had no regrets about his decision, but he doubted any of it would have helped. Focusing on the note in his hands, he asked, "Does _anyone_ know about this?"

She nodded. "I told the captain. The building's CCTV went out that night. He's got tech looking into it."

It wasn't enough for Connor, who wanted to start going door to door right away looking for witnesses, but he would leave it. At least for tonight. "I guess neither of us are keeping the other out of our problems," He admitted.

"Yeah," She agreed. There was really no good excuse for either of them, she supposed. "No more secrets. Not about stuff like this."

He looked to her, and nodded. "No more secrets."

Rubbing the back of her neck, she stepped away from and toward her bedroom. "I'm going to get ready for bed."

"It's an odd message."

She stopped and turned back. He still stared down at the note, his brows furrowed. "Taking out the trash isn't murder, but he writes _death_ to androids?" She asked him.

"And he wants to kill a number of people. It doesn't make sense," He added.

Andy didn't reply, though she found it just as weird. Stewart Combs was, at the same time, meticulously organized and violently unpredictable, and she was done thinking about it today. She began to leave again, but grabbed the door-frame of her bedroom and stopped herself one more time. He was still staring down at the note, and she suspected he was already fixated on it.

"Thank you," She called out to him, and he looked up to her in surprise. "For... all of today."

He thought to tell her it was nothing, that he would do it again and again without hesitation, but the nerves returned to him. Instead he nodded, and watched her leave the room.


	16. Break Ins and Dinner Parties

**November 25, 2038**

Andy was up before the sun on Thanksgiving morning. She called for a cab rather than ride her bike, and five minutes later, she was standing in the airport.

After the incident at Combs' house, Natalie Hope insisted on visiting over the weekend. She wanted to see her daughter for herself, and Christmas was too long a wait. Andy didn't argue with her - bomb scares were a level above what either of them were used to handling.

Andy arrived at the airport much earlier than she needed to, and she was willing to admit a part of that was anxiety. It had been five years since she'd seen her mother last, and although their relationship was good before she went undercover, that wasn't always the case. It was enough of a stressor that it became the primary topic of what Andy discussed at her last session with Doctor Nazarian. _Things are going to be messy,_ Nazarian said the night prior, _You had to do things a lot of people wouldn't want to talk about, and your mother's going to want to know about it._

It was accurate, but the problem ran a little deeper for Andy. Victoria Palmer wasn't just a criminal persona; it very well could have been who she would have become when she was younger. She was worried being that person changed her, and changed her deeply enough that it would break a relationship that once went through something similar.

_Set boundaries, but let her in,_ Nazarian had told her. She was repeating that to herself now, as she stared at the time on her phone.

"Andrea!"

_Deep breaths. Set boundaries._

* * *

Hank and Connor arrived at work before Andy, which meant the day was already off to an abnormal start. As the minutes went on, a game began of who would bite the bullet and call her. Neither wanted to irritate her if she was simply running late, but after everything the department had gone through over the past month, their paranoia was beginning to take hold.

When she finally walked into the department, Hank turned in his chair to scold her. "You're late."

Her arms went up in a defensive shrug, and she retorted, "I was busy!"

"Doing _what_?" He scowled.

Before she could reply, Natalie's voice cut in. "She was helping me," The older Hope explained, appearing from behind her daughter.

The sight of her had Hank scrambling to his feet, his eyes going wide and his back straightening. "Natalie!" He exclaimed, towering over her by a full foot in height.

She carried a large platter in her hands, and had two grocery bags hanging from her wrists. "Sorry I kept her," She said, finishing with a warm smile, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Hank was no longer aware of his surroundings; that was just the kind of effect she had on him. Andy was moving around to her desk as he nodded, and attempted a healthy-sounding conversation. "It has," He glanced to the platter in her arms, almost twice the width of her petite frame, and reached out to take it from her. "Let me help with you- y- you with that. Let me... help _you._"

"Smooth," Andy piped.

He tossed a glare in her direction, but kept his attention on Natalie. "What is all this?"

With her hands free, she repositioned her bags and explained, "Well I figured if the rest of you were anything like Andrea, no one was eating properly around here."

There was an assortment of meats and cheese spread across the store-bought platter, and it looked better than all of Hank's meals over the past week. That was an embarrassing fact he would take to his grave, but his brows shot up as he muttered, "You'd be right about that..."

"Is there somewhere we can take this?"

"Oh, yeah. Follow me."

* * *

In the SID office, Lieutenant Richards was assuring Connor that his help was valuable, but needed to be handled with great care. They had names, and they had most of the address associated with them. The next step would be surveillance, followed by the DA's intervention and the ensuing arrests. _That_ would be when they would need him again, Richards told Connor.

It was a long way out, and the time in between looked bleak. He needed something to keep him busy, to keep him from feeling like he was useless. He walked out of the SID office with the intention of seeing if Hank had something for him to do, but instead he found Andy sitting at her desk.

He hesitated when he saw her. Their relationship had been changing as of late, taking on a new, more intense form. He wanted to say it started when she first moved into her apartment, or when they investigated Combs' home, but it would have been a lie. He recognized what he was feeling. He'd felt it before, though he wasn't free to explore it back then: he was nervous when he first met Andy, too.

She came into his life like a bright, unstoppable force and knocked him off balance from the very beginning, but they worked together, and came to trust each other. They built a friendship. He wasn't nervous anymore, not when it came to her. She was a steady and familiar constant even as his own identity was crumbling around him.

And yet he hesitated when he saw her.

He approached as she was turning her computer on. "Good morning," He greeted.

She looked up and grinned, unaware of the current insecurities running through his mind. "Hey. How's it going with Richards?"

"They're starting surveillance today on the main list of suspects," He answered, standing at the end of her desk. "I doubt they'll need me for a while."

Kicking back in her chair, she replied, "Sounds like someone's getting some time off."

He tried not to scowl, but muttered all the same, "It would be time off if I worked here."

She picked up on the edge in his tone, and offered a sympathetic smile. Even if she had teased him for his impatience days earlier, she understood how he felt. "Still antsy?"

He didn't deny it, instead giving a faint nod. He leaned against her desk, eyes drifting away from her. Maybe some space from the department would be good for him? "I should see if Markus needs help with anything," He mused aloud.

"I'm sure he can think of something," She agreed.

A soft laugh elsewhere in the station pulled their attention toward the break room. Natalie and Hank stood by the table where they'd placed the food, and were immersed in conversation. As Natalie chuckled over something said, Hank was leaned forward, a small grin on his face.

He was flirting. It was something Connor had never before seen from the lieutenant, but the woman it was directed at wore a familiar face. "Isn't that your mother?" He asked.

"That's her," Andy confirmed. With a small sigh, she explained, "After the Combs thing, she insisted on visiting this week."

It explained why she was late to work, but that mystery was replaced immediately by a new one. Connor's eyes were narrowing as he focused on the two. "Hank seems... friendlier."

Andy quirked a brow and hummed. She was clearly amused as she joked, "He's got the hots for Mama Hope."

It was fascinating to watch them. Connor had seen Hank when he was trying to be nice, and this wasn't that. This looked softer. He moved a hand to the back of his neck and averted his gaze, the body language of a bashful man. Having never met Natalie, Connor couldn't begin to compare her behavior, so he asked Andy. "Does she reciprocate?"

Unfortunately, she turned her stare around on him and said, "You know, funnily enough, I don't ask my mom about her love life."

* * *

Natalie was the first to notice Connor. She was in the middle of speaking to Hank when she pointed toward the bullpen, cutting off her own sentence to ask him, "Who's that with Andrea?"

Hank turned and spotted the two in a conversation of their own. "That would be Connor," He answered.

It was a name she'd heard before. "The android... detective?"

He nodded, with a strained sigh and a deep nod. "The very one."

It didn't take much for Natalie to switch modes, and she'd been interested in talking to a free android ever since deviancy hit the news in St. Louis. They weren't exactly lining up outside her office, so this was the closest chance she had to talk to a deviant. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she said, "I didn't realize he was still here."

"We, uh..." Hank paused, still not knowing how to explain Connor. "Well-"

A small, awkward laugh left him, and Natalie's gaze centered on Hank. His reaction was curious behavior all on its own, and it took her but a second to realize why. "You like him," She accused, the tiniest of smiles forming.

Hank was quick to scoff and argue, "I don't like anybody."

"You like Andrea."

He pointed at her, stressing, "I _put up_ with Andy."

"You like me."

He began to reply but stopped, knowing that denial was useless and agreement was embarrassing. Shaking his head, he stated, "He's like a puppy, Natalie."

"Said the man who loves dogs," She quipped, positively beaming at this revelation. "Now introduce me."

She was stubborn, but the meeting was going to happen sooner or later, so he gave in and led her out of the kitchen. He called out as they crossed into the bullpen, and Connor stood from the desk to face them as they neared. Hank stopped in front of him, gesturing to the woman stepping forward. "This is Natalie Hope."

She and Connor openly examined one another, neither aware the other was doing the same thing. It was an odd sort of stand-off, as it wasn't contentious, nor was it blatantly friendly.

It also only lasted seconds, as Connor was quick to say, "You're Andy's mother." He held out a hand, offering a smile to go with it. "It's nice to meet you."

The casual mention of Andy by forename rather than rank and surname was not lost on Natalie. It would seem Hank wasn't the only one who'd formed a relationship with the deviant detective. She was pleased to return his handshake, confessing, "And it's nice to meet you. Honestly, I'm surprised to see any androids still here after the protests."

Her voice was light and gentle, and it surprised him. Andy didn't speak with the same kind of lilt; she was bolder, a little deeper, and that was what he expected to hear from her mother. The calming tone was also different, though he wondered how much of that was Natalie's background as a psychologist. "I agreed to help SID with their investigation," He told her, choosing not to add that his help was indefinitely on hold.

"I'm sure they're lucky to have you, Connor."

From the sidelines, Andy cleared her throat. "Well, it's been great, but we should probably get to work."

Natalie's smile turned sly as she chuckled, "That's my cue to leave." She looked between Hank and Connor a moment longer, then asked, "Why don't you come to dinner?"

Andy started to shake her head and reach out, "Mom-"

"We'll have plenty to spare," She insisted, waving a hand toward Hank. Settling on Connor, she added, "And I'd love to talk more with you."

They shared an uncertain glance. Hank's plans for Thanksgiving had been to go home and get drunk, so a homecooked meal sounded tempting, and despite Connor thinking distance from Andy would do him some good, he had to admit curiosity was getting the better of him. "Uh, we'll be there," Hank agreed with a shrug, then offered, "Let me walk you out."

Natalie waved as she followed Hank out of the bullpen. Connor watched them leave before turning to check on Andy. Her protest to the invitation hadn't fallen on deaf ears, and he didn't want to attend a family event if it made her uncomfortable. "If you let Hank know you don't want us there, we can come up with a reason to cancel."

"What?" She looked up at him in confusion, but soon realized what he meant. "Oh, no, I- That's fine," She dismissed, shaking her head.

His brows furrowed. "Then what's wrong?"

"I was-" Sighing, she confided, "I just wanted to talk to her about some stuff tonight."

"I see." He decided not to push the subject, recognizing some matters were best left private. Still, he wanted to help. "We could arrive late," He suggested.

His attempts amused her, but she waved him off and assured him, "Don't worry about it. She'll be here for a few more days. You sure _you_ want to go, though? I mean, you're just going to be watching everyone stuff their faces."

"I don't mind," He shook his head. "I'd like to get to know your mother. Her personality can say a lot about you."

Quirking her brow, she asked, "What, you haven't fully figured me out yet?"

If only she knew. "No, I haven't," He confessed. Gaining a small flirtatious smile, he leaned forward and teased her, "You continue to be quite the puzzle."

It was a strangely familiar gesture, but he gave her no time to respond. She watched his back retreat, her brows raised. _Was he just..._ Shaking her head, she scooted toward her desk. _Nah._

* * *

Later that day, news reached Hank that identification was made of the android Combs killed after the attempted assassination of Joss Douglas. He collected the address from CSI, and he left with Andy to pay the location a visit. While he drove, Andy read more information as it came in on her phone. By the time they arrived, she had a good idea of who they would be speaking to.

It was a nice neighborhood. The homes were large, the yards manicured, and the cars that sit in the driveways were numerous and expensive. Already, this android was in a stark contrast to the previous two victims. Hank stared at the estate after he parked by the curb, and asked, "_This_ is where that android lived?"

"According to Ben," Andy replied, showing him her phone's screen, "They manage the factory Combs worked at."

At least that explained Combs' connection, but Hank was struck with another thought. "Y'know, is it just me, or all our victims lately androids?"

Andy thought it over before nodding. Combs may have been their priority, but there was something to be said for Fowler entrusting that job to _them_, all things considered. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "You think he should've sent Reed out here?" She asked her partner.

He paused just long enough to imagine the raw indignity Gavin Reed would have displayed had that been the case. "Depends. Could I watch?"

With a small huff, Andy climbed out of the car, and Hank followed. They started to walk along the driveway toward the stone steps of the porch, and Hank waved out a hand across the view of the property. "Y'know, this android probably wasn't even a year old and he was in a place like this. Meanwhile, I've been busting my ass for thirty years, and you see the shack I live in," He complained as they stopped by the front door and Andy knocked. "And now I got to share it with Connor," He ended with a grumble.

Andy's phone began vibrating, and she scoffed, reaching into her pocket. "Hey, I offered to take him off your hands."

"That's just what we need. You two alone without supervision."

She looked up at him, immediately taken aback by the implication. Connor's behavior at the precinct that morning drifted into her mind, making her wonder now if Hank was interpreting their exchanges as something less than platonic. She was always someone who enjoyed harmless flirting, but she recognized there was a line where things turned serious. If he thought they crossed that line, he'd never mentioned it.

Hank didn't seem to notice she was deep in her thoughts, adding to his comment, "You'd end up neck deep in cold cases older than me."

Oh. _Oh._ That was what he meant. _Of course_ that was what he meant.

She stared another moment, before pursing her lips and trying to regain her composure. "That's fair," She mumbled, finally turning her attention to her phone.

It was one punch after the other, as she was now faced with a photo of Connor standing in her kitchen, donned in an apron and at least one layer of flour.

"You know, you've had your nose in that thing a lot lately," Hank complained, eying her. He wasn't going to mention it at first, but the time she spent looking at her phone increased more and more as the days went on.

He was referring to the time she spent communicating with her secret therapist, she assumed, but _this_ was definitely not that. She was slow as she pulled her eyes away from her phone, trying to sort through the concoction of emotions she was brewing. "Connor's with my mother."

Hank's head spun toward her. "What?"

They'd forgotten they were on duty, much less waiting on someone's porch. The front door opened before more could be said about Andy's text, and they were greeted by a middle-aged woman in heels and pearls. She smiled at them cautiously, waiting for an introduction.

Hank's mouth opened as he tried to proceed as normal, but gave Andy a double-take nonetheless. Focusing on the new face, he cleared his throat and asked, "Uh- Erika Dunn?"

She nodded. "Yes... Can I help you?"

Displaying his badge, he explained, "Lieutenant Anderson with the DPD, Ma'am. This is Detective Hope. Was there an android living here at one time?"

Recognition crossed her features, as did bemusement. "Yes, it went missing a few days ago," She confirmed, "Why?"

Hank put his badge away, and asked, "Would you mind answering a few questions for us?"

* * *

Connor was going to see Markus when he left the department. He was going to take some time to visit Jericho and see if there was any work to be done on his end. He would have welcomed the distraction and the opportunity to further redeem himself. That really, truly was the plan.

Then he ran into Natalie, who was calling a cab to take her to the apartment. They chatted as she waited, and somehow, somewhere along the way, she discovered he had no set plans. She subsequently roped him into helping her prepare Thanksgiving dinner.

He didn't realize what happened until he was already standing in Andy's kitchen, elbow deep in flour and sugar. Natalie was keeping a watchful but appreciative eye on him as he worked. She was making stuffing as she quipped, "And you were nervous to work with food. Look at you, you're already mixing like a pro."

He considered it empty praise to soothe him, but nonetheless he commented, "Cooking is mostly math and science - two things androids are designed to excel at."

She had a deep laugh, joking, "Well I hope they wouldn't design you to do anything poorly."

Moving across the island to a box she appeared to have brought with her from St. Louis, she dug through the contents and plucked out a whisk. They settled into a silence as she returned to her own bowl, though it didn't last long. "So how's life, Connor?"

It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Jericho's future was looking bright, even with CyberLife looming over all of them. SID's red ice case was a few weeks of due diligence away from being closed. Hank and Andy were finding their normal lives in a post-rebellion world. But none of that was what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know what life was to _him_, as an individual.

Life as a deviant was freeing, refreshing, and intimidating. It was all of his past actions coming back to haunt him, and it was all the emotions he had to face and understand. "It's overwhelming," He finally said.

"Long story short," She mused. In a casual tone that didn't match the topic at hand, she asked, "What's got you lost?"

He wasn't sure if it was because she was a therapist, or because she was Andy's mother, but he decided it was okay to be open with the woman next to him. "Being alive is a lot to process. I'm still trying to cycle through all of what I'm feeling," He said before admitting, "I'm also struggling with the fact I'm not a detective anymore. I spend a lot of time waiting on Lieutenant Richards, or following Andy."

"Jericho isn't keeping you busy?"

He frowned. He was going to see Markus before he ended up here, but it would have been the first time he'd visited them after the rebellion. "The news may have painted me as one of its leaders, but until the march, we were on opposite sides."

"I assumed they would have welcomed you with open arms once you... Um...," She trailed off in a silent question, holding a hand out toward him for help.

She didn't know the word for what he was, and it reminded him that deviancy hadn't struck the country as hard outside Detroit. "Deviated, and yes, they did. I just..."

It wasn't a silent question, but he trailed off all the same, and she returned the favor by filling in the gap, "Don't feel you belong?"

That was it exactly. When he nodded, she agreed, "That can be overwhelming." She transferred the in-progress stuffing to a baking pan, and it wasn't until she'd placed it in the oven that she spoke again. Dropping her hands onto the counter, she shifted to one foot and asked, "Do you have much time for yourself?"

He'd finished his task, and she pulled the bowl away from him before sliding him a new one. "I have a few hours every night when the lieutenant retires to his room-"

She shook her head, waving a hand to stop him, "No, no, I mean full days, to relax and... think."

He hadn't had a single full day to do that... ever. Brows furrowing, he replied, "I don't. Is that important?"

"Very," She stressed, gathering ingredients for another dish she was starting. "You should make that time. No one knows every part of who they are, and identity is always changing, but it helps to be left to ourselves now and then, and figure out where we are." She dropped an empty bowl down in front of herself and shrugged. "Read a book. Learn a craft. Try gardening. Have something you can call your own."

He had to admit, it sounded nice. Hank had music and basketball. Andy had her bike, and a variety of sports. Even Markus had the arts. Connor had interests and likes, but he hadn't thought about any of them since becoming deviant. "I'll take that into consideration," He hummed.

Assuming the stretch of silence before his reply had been one born of irritation, Natalie backed off. "I tend to overstep, I know. I apologize."

He was quick to correct her, "That isn't necessary. I think you have a good point. I've been so focused on what's coming next, I haven't thought about the rest of my life." That brought him pause; it was weird to say. Liberating, but weird. "I'm still not used to thinking of it as _my_ life," He added, realizing it then and there, himself.

She pointed at him with a wooden spoon and a smile. "That conflict is more human than you may realize."

* * *

Erika Dunn led the detectives into a spacious and decorated home. There was a den adjacent to the entrance, with sofas, end tables, and a piano in the corner. An electric fireplace in the middle of the wall turned on as they entered, and she offered them a seat opposite her.

Pulling at her cardigan, she gave a bashful smile and said, "I'm sorry the place is such a mess. We've been short on help around the house lately."

Hank and Andy shared a glance, as neither could find anything they'd consider a mess. "Barely noticed," Andy chirped with a smile only Hank read as sarcastic.

He quickly took control of the conversation, moving along to the reason they were there. "When's the last time you saw your android, Ma'am?" He asked, clasping his hands together between his knees.

Erika thought through her timeline before answering, "I told Kurt to go to the convenience store down the road on Tuesday. I was feeling sick and wanted it to pick up some medicine for me."

That was the day of the shooting, and it appeared to be the opportunity for Combs to strike. "He never came back?" Hank pressed.

"No," She shook her head, unaware of what that meant to them. "Honestly, I thought maybe it just went deviant. What happened?"

That was a long story, one they weren't ready to tell her yet. They were holding Combs' name close to their chest for now, so Andy deflected the question with one of her own, asking, "Did you notice anything strange around that time? Maybe someone lingering a little too much out front, or..."

She was cut off by the sound of the front door. Seconds later, a sharp-dressed man walked into the room, in the process of removing his coat. He came to a stop upon seeing the three of them. "I didn't know we were having company."

Hank and Andy stood from the sofa when he came into the space, and Erika gestured to them. "They're detectives," She explained, then introduced him, "This is my husband, Tom."

Tom relaxed and approached with an extended hand. Hank took hold as the man said, "It's great to hear from you. To be honest, I was getting ready to call Chief Simmons."

Whatever he was talking about was lost on Hank and Andy, and Erika sensed it. She rose to her feet to join the conversation and told him, "Actually, they were asking about Kurt."

Tom slipped his hands into his pockets and lifted his chin in thought. He was still under the assumption they were here for other business, so he asked, "Kurt? You think our android had something to do with the break-in?"

This was new information. "Sorry, did you say break-in?" Andy repeated.

Now he was growing weary. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the two, and he explained, "Someone broke in Tuesday afternoon, stole half the valuables from my study. Some officers came out, but we're still waiting to hear about any follow up."

He was beginning to complain about the lack of priority they had with the DPD, but Andy stopped him. Waving her hand, she interjected, "Could we see that room?"

* * *

"What was Andy like as a child?"

Natalie was teaching Connor how to make pumpkin pie. Pans and bowls were scattered around them on the counter, and she had him rolling out a ball of dough. She smirked and side-eyed him at his question, joking, "Ah, that's why you're really here, isn't it? You want all the embarrassing stories."

He looked over to deny it, but she ushered him to keep his eyes on the dough. "Andrea was wonderful. Bubbly, sweet, enthusiastic, all those things she wouldn't want me saying about her," She chuckled.

In a way, it was easy to imagine Andy as her mother described. She wasn't usually far from those things now, but Connor was sometimes privy to another side of her. No matter how hard she tried to appear cocky and nonchalant, she had her insecurities. He believed he knew why, but he was hesitant to breach the subject. He was careful with his choice of words as he continued, "Would it be rude if I asked about Scott?"

If Natalie was surprised, she recovered quickly. "No. People always ask; it's okay," She replied, shaking her head. "He was a prosecutor. Hard-working. Humble. A little self-righteous, but so am I. I used to call him the smartest idiot I ever knew," She stopped to laugh at an inside joke she'd long been unable to make anymore.

She slid around the counter to retrieve a pie dish from her box of kitchen supplies. "And he _adored_ Andrea. Those two were inseparable from the minute she was born. And they loved sports! Ugh, any sport. I was exhausted," She complained, rolling her eyes.

He smiled at her expression and watched her drape the dough he'd flattened over the dish. Her hands moved slowly, as she took care to be gentle with the crust. "She doesn't talk about him much, but it's obvious they were close," He commented.

She nodded in agreement, not tearing her eyes away from the dish. "Things were hard after what happened. Andrea started to rebel. I expected that. It's normal-" Pausing, she leaned back and sighed. "But it didn't help that it was a big story. You couldn't turn the TV on or walk outside without seeing headlines and photos and videos of crime scene tape. It was difficult."

He wondered what she meant by rebelling. It could have been anything, from trivial childish antics to more serious concerns. Knowing Andy, he suspected she acted in extremes even back then.

He wanted to ask many more questions about Andy's relationship with her father, and about the details of his murder, but he felt himself nearing the limit of what was appropriate. While he was looking for a way to bring the conversation to something lighter, Natalie did so herself. "Did you know she actually met Hank when she was a child?"

Surprised, he said, "They never mentioned that."

She clicked her tongue, muttering, "They probably forgot. She got into some trouble - I don't even remember what, now. Graffiti, or a fight, something like that." She placed the pie dish into the freezer and started to clean the counter of the loose flour, so Connor jumped to help. "I was called to pick her up from the precinct and when I got there, they were sitting there, just glaring at each other," She told him, holding her hands up for emphasis to the story. A new, amused grin pulled at her lips, and she cackled to herself. "Apparently he'd given her a long lecture about her generation, and she called him some impolite names."

Well that sounded right. It would seem some things never changed. "Did her rebellious behavior stop there?"

Natalie adamantly shook her head. "Oh, no. Eventually she got sucked into this local gym. She took classes, started boxing, they gave her a summer job. Then one day she came home and put an application down on the table and said, 'I'm going to be a detective,'" Turning to face him, she stated, "And once a Hope sets their mind on something, that's that."

He smiled again. "I've noticed."

* * *

The study in the Dunn home was the length of Hank's living room and kitchen combined. Bookcases lined the walls and extended to the ceiling, and were spaced apart by shelves and display cases that contained various décor. A large mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, with oversized chairs in front. In a wall behind the desk was a built-in safe.

Hank and Andy paced around as Tom Dunn lingered in the arched doorway with his wife. Hank neared the desk, trying to scan for things out of place without invading too much of their privacy. "What all did you say was missing?"

Tom gestured from the safe in the wall to a smaller bookcase on the left. "Some money from the safe... Jewelry I bought for Erika's birthday coming up... There were a few books over on that shelf - first edition hard copies. Very valuable."

Pointing to him, Hank mused, "Better than digital, right?"

With a smile and an assertive nod, Tom replied, "Wouldn't own any other kind."

Andy quietly rolled her eyes, but at the sidelines, Erika leaned in toward her husband. "Don't forget about the memorabilia," She reminded him.

Hearing her words, Andy turned. "The what?"

He shook his head and explained, "I had some old war artifacts in that cabinet." Andy moved toward the display case in question. She was opening the lid to look closer at the contents as he mumbled, "Took me forever to gather that collection."

Andy recognized the artifacts on display - one in particular caught her eye. "Hank," She called out, a frown setting into her lips.

He walked up to her side, and spotted the landmine near the bottom of the display. It was identical to the one placed in Combs' desk, and the space next to it was empty. Hank looked to the Dunns, pointing down at the antique. "What's the story with this thing?"

"I got those at an auction a few years ago. Disabled long before they ever started circulating the market," Tom answered.

He assumed he was alleviating their concerns about the old explosive, but he'd done just the opposite. "How many of these did you have?" Andy asked.

"Four," He told them, brows furrowing at the panic growing on their faces. "Is... something wrong?"

* * *

Natalie was returning the turkey to the oven when she spoke again. "Tell me, does Hank still drink that disgusting scotch?"

Connor was working on a cornbread mixture, when he nodded at the question. "Regularly."

She grimaced at the memory, muttering, "Old dogs and their habits."

"Have you known Hank long?" He asked.

She started moving things around the kitchen, cleaning up after herself. "I'd heard about him here and there, but I didn't really meet him until Andrea joined his task force." Waving her hand, she described, "Back when he was more serious, less..."

She trailed off, and Connor smiled. "Drunk?"

"That's the one," She pointed, chuckling, "I was a ball of nerves when Andrea left, and Hank was very patient with me. I probably would have given myself a heart attack if not for him."

Patient was not a word anyone used to describe Hank nowadays, and Connor had a feeling it was unusual behavior even then. It reminded him of that morning, when he saw the two of them in what looked to be a pleasant conversation. Andy's words were ringing true, but Connor wanted to know more. "Andy seems to think Hank may be interested in you," He informed Natalie.

He was more forward than he knew was socially acceptable, but Natalie was an open person. This continued to prove true as she grinned and asked, "Does she, now?"

"Is she right?"

"You're asking me and not Hank?" She retorted, gesturing to herself. At his flat stare, she conceded. "There was something between us once, but it just wasn't the right time."

He didn't understand how the time could be wrong for relationships, and that frustrated him. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged, wiping down the counter. "Relationships are hard. You need to be in a good enough place to know what to give and what to expect. I didn't think he was there." Realizing what she must have sounded like, she quickly added, "It wasn't all on him, though. I wasn't happy where I was, and I left Michigan not long after."

Connor fell quiet, contemplating her words. How would one know when it was time to act on those feelings, or what to expect? He was skilled at reading people and appealing to them. He'd done so before when he was a deviant hunter, but he doubted romantic emotions were anything like hostage negotiations or criminal interrogations. This was messier, and had no clear guidelines.

He wondered, too, why it bothered him so much. Looking down to the bowl in his hands, he asked Natalie, "How do you know when you have feelings for someone?"

It was the first time he managed to surprise her. Her brows shot up as she mused, "Now _there's_ a question."

"I'm having a hard time understanding it," He muttered in frustration.

"Most people do. It's a pretty heavy topic," She assured him. Leaning against the counter, she sighed and began to explain, "Everyone interprets romance differently, but at the end of the day, it's about having a deep emotional connection, and wanting intimacy." Her eyes narrowed, and she asked in a soft voice, "Are you experiencing that?"

She was patient while he asked himself that question. Knowing the answer should have come easy to him, but there was so much he still had to learn. Caring about people was something he did instinctually; it was a fundamental part of his life. Intimacy warped the way he felt into something unfamiliar. It shook the foundation of this family he'd found for himself. Wanting something more than he already had was strange, and it was irrational.

He wanted it, though. "I think I am," He finally confessed.

Natalie had been watching his face, and the expressions that subtly slipped through the cracks as his thoughts progressed. She was an honest woman, and she would admit that she convinced Connor to help her that day because she wanted one-on-one time with an android. Deviancy was fascinating, and she wanted to see for herself the extent of their intelligence. She was over the moon to discover that Connor was as fallible and individual as any human.

That being said, she didn't expect to be giving romance advice. She could tell her next words would bear a lot of weight with him, so she allowed herself ample time to consider them carefully. "All of this is new for you, and that's a big deal, so take your time. Everyone has to explore what they want and decide what they're comfortable with. There's no universal truth you have to follow, no set way you have to feel or live."

Universal truth was pretty much all Connor had as a deviant hunter. With a rueful smile, he confided, "That's the opposite of everything I knew before I was alive."

She grinned, and shrugged. "Well, now you're alive. The rules have changed."

* * *

Hank and Andy stepped into the elevator of Andy's apartment complex. She moved to lean against the wall and tap her foot, while he stood closer to the front, staring at the metal doors as they closed. Neither spoke, but tension was hanging in the air.

Resisting a heavy sigh, Andy broke the silence. "Are you sure about this?"

Hank knew it was coming, and he'd been waiting for it. "I'm sure," He groaned out.

There was a distinct edge in his tone, so she tried to leave it there. Pursing her lips, her foot tapped faster and faster until, seconds later, she caved. "What if they miss something?"

Scoffing, he looked over his shoulder and argued, "Andy, damn it, we're not going to find anything the bomb squad and FBI won't find. You gave them all our information. Now it's up to them to stop the guy, and it's up to us to eat the food Natalie made."

"Easy for you to say," She grumbled, referring to his infatuation with her mother.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked before shaking his head and dismissing it. "Never-mind. Look, just try to relax for once, all right? And don't go telling any of this to Connor, either. You're gonna get in his head and he'll just egg you on."

With her arms crossed over her chest, she scowled at him. "You do realize we're not children, right?" His accusatory stare was all he needed for her to shrug and exclaim, "All right!" They started to relax, but Andy mumbled, "I still think it's weird he spent all day with my mom."

Hank huffed. "You and me, both."

The elevator opened on her floor, and they walked down the hall to her apartment. He followed her in as she called out, "Mom? We're home."

"We're in here!"

They walked around the half-wall at the foyer, and both came to an abrupt stop. The island in the kitchen was covered in homecooked dishes, with various leftover ingredients scattered around on the counters by the wall. A large turkey on a platter sat in the middle, freshly out of the oven. In the middle of it all, Natalie was hovering over Connor as he held a can of whipped cream and decorated the top of a pumpkin pie. They both wore dirtied aprons, and a small drop of whipped cream clung to Connor's jawline.

Natalie smiled at them, unfazed by their baffled expressions. "How was your day?"

"Weirder now," Andy said under her breath.

Hank snorted, and nodded in agreement. "I'm gonna take a leak," He muttered, heading for the bathroom.

Once he walked away, she approached the two in the kitchen. "When you sent that photo, I thought you were just messing with me," She said, eying the patches of flour that coated them.

At the mention of a photo, Connor perked up. He looked to Natalie with a face of betrayal, and she gave a defensive shrug. "What? Are you embarrassed?"

He weakly shook his head. "I'm not..."

Gaining a devilish grin, she picked up trays of food and scurried out of the kitchen to place them on the temporary table she set up in the living room. Andy replaced her at Connor's side, watching him finish a border of whipped cream around the pie. "Have fun with my mom?"

He nodded. "I did. She's a compelling woman to talk to," He replied, moving on to cut slices. "How was your day?"

Andy hesitated as Hank left the bathroom, and she watched him linger around the dinner table to speak to Natalie. They were distracted and unaware of the conversation taking place in the kitchen, so she leaned forward to speak to Connor quietly. "The android in the parking garage worked for Combs' old manager," She started, resting her hip against the counter, "Combs didn't just kidnap the android, though - he broke into their place and stole three deactivated landmines."

Connor immediately returned to work mode. A man like Combs having one explosive was bad enough, but now he had two more opportunities for destruction? Thinking to the written plans they found in his home, Connor said, "His targets need security details as soon as possible."

She scoffed, reaching for the can of whipped cream. "The FBI's on it. Fowler made us hand over the case. And Hank _agreed_, can you believe that?" She hissed, picking at the nozzle.

He understood her frustration, but looking down at her now, all he could think about was seeing that landmine in her hands two days ago. Hank was right. "It makes sense," He declared.

It was the last thing she expected from him, and her jaw dropped. "What?"

"Combs is committing acts of terrorism. This is a federal case," He explained.

Her shoulders dropped, and she started pouting. "...But it's _my_ case."

"You could have been killed two days ago," He scolded.

Rolling her eyes, she slapped the can on the table and said, "God, now you sound like Hank."

"Someone who cares about you? I don't find that offensive," Was his firm retort.

This flustered her, and it was enough to shut her up and avert her gaze to the counter. After all their interactions over the past few days, his words landed heavier than they would have a week ago. It was a nice feeling - one she hadn't experienced in a long time - but also concerning.

She wouldn't let herself think too much about it. "Yeah, well, you have cream on your face," She argued, picking up a napkin and smacking it to the side of his jaw. It stuck to the stray bit of whipped cream, and he jolted at the contact, blinking in surprise. He watched her turn and walk away before slowly lifting his hand to peel off the napkin.

* * *

Natalie's feast left no square inch empty on the table. Dishes of stuffing, casserole, potatoes, and cornbread circled around the centerpiece, which was a large, rich turkey. Empty plates and glasses of water and wine were set around the table. It was a grand sight that Andy considered excessive, but she wouldn't say so aloud. She believed that after five years, Natalie had a right to go as overboard as she wanted.

While they settled in around the table, Natalie stood and held up her wine glass. "Before we eat...," She said, straightening her blouse.

Andy took in a deep breath and shifted in her seat, preparing for the upcoming speech. Natalie noticed it, and narrowed her eyes, teasing, "Well now I'm going to talk... extra... slowly."

She waited a moment to sober herself before she began. "I know this isn't the Thanksgiving any of us imagined for ourselves ten years ago-" Lifting her glass toward Connor, she amended, "Or for some of us, a year ago. We pictured different homes, different company." She took a sip, adding under her breath and drawing a huff of amusement from Andy, "Worse food."

The room was quiet as Natalie spoke, each person at the table having their own pasts to reflect on and their own futures to consider. "But I think we all know how fragile plans can be. Life changes. The rules change," She said with a smile toward Connor. "But we're here for each other. We're a family, even on days where that may feel inconvenient." Raising her glass, she finished, "So I, for one, think this a pretty decent runner up."

Glasses were lifted in cheers, and they proceeded to eat.

Food had been placed on plates by the time Connor piped up, the first to start conversation. "Is it true Hank arrested Andy when she was younger?"

They looked up at him in mild confusion. No one replied instantly, but once the realization hit, Hank aimed an indignant glare in Andy's direction. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it as he yelled, "You called me a geriatric asshole!"

She cackled as she stabbed her fork into a slice of turkey.

* * *

Half the food was eaten by the time everyone separated from the table and settled into place throughout the apartment. Andy insisted on being the one to clean and put the leftovers away, shooing Natalie out of the kitchen in the process. She turned on faint music to listen to while she wrapped up food to put into the fridge, setting aside the dishes to clean afterward. Connor had been moving food to the kitchen for her, and once he finished, he stepped up beside her to help.

"So, thinking about a career in the culinary world now?" She asked, keeping her voice down to match the tone of the evening.

He shook his head, downplaying his part. "I didn't do much."

She didn't believe him, and the shrug expressed as much. "Mom says you made the pie by yourself," She argued.

Chuckling, he told her, "One pie is far from becoming a chef."

"I don't know, I think the hat would suit you," She joked. Her smirk widened, and had he noticed it, he would have been prepared for the next comment. "The apron certainly did."

She looked absolutely delighted with herself, and shot up a challenging brow once their eyes met. He smiled, remarking, "You're going to tease me about that for a while, aren't you?"

At least she was honest enough to nod and admit it. "Might even make it my phone's lock screen," She threatened. "Thank you for keeping her company."

His movements slowed as he watched her. She was smiling now, without any trace of humor, and he found himself at a loss for words. It reminded him of another moment, of them sitting in Hank's kitchen when they first met. She had winked at him then, and for just a second, his mind cleared and he stopped thinking. It was absurd how easy it was for her to disarm him completely, even more so that she'd had that effect on him since day one.

Not much time passed since she thanked him, so he told her, "There's no need. I meant it when I said I enjoyed it."

"Sounds like you went a whole day without wanting to pull your hair out or pace a hole into the floor," She said.

He agreed, admitting, "You're right. I think this was the first day I've ever relaxed."

Nudging her shoulder into his, she told him, "Welcome to life-" Suddenly her eyes went wide, and she spun on her heel to face him, exclaiming, "Ooh, I know, I'll get it printed _on_ an apron!"

He scoffed.

Andy's laughter travelled outside of the apartment as Hank stepped onto the balcony. Natalie made herself comfortable in a chair by the sliding door, cuddling into her sweater and coat. She was enjoying the view of the city, and looked up at Hank as he stood there.

He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight to one foot. "Uh, thanks," He said, lamely. "For, you know, inviting Connor and me."

"Of course. We're happy to have you," She nodded. He crossed the balcony, resting an arm over the railing. She waited for him to settle, and once he turned to face her, she asked, "How have you been?"

"Good!" He exclaimed. It was more excitable than he intended, so he cleared his throat and tried again, "Good." Natalie continued to watch him stand there and unravel. "I'm... good."

She was smiling at him when she nodded and quietly said, "Okay."

Tired of being on the spot, he gestured toward her. "What about you? How's St. Louis?"

"It's good."

Their eyes met, and he caught the hint of amusement on her face. He tried to retort, but stopped himself. He knew how ridiculous he'd sounded, how unbelievable his answer was. He huffed, and they shared a small laugh. "My partners have been taking over some of my responsibilities at the office, so I have more free time than usual," Was the real answer she eventually gave.

If anyone else said it to him, he would have taken it as a good thing. He knew Natalie Hope, however, and it made him grin. "Bet you're miserable."

Chuckling, she admitted, "Pretty close. But now that Andrea's back, I have someone to bother when I'm not working."

It was a comment that got his hopes up, and he tried to act nonchalant when he pressed for more information. "So... you think you'll be coming back to Detroit more often?"

"I do," She drawled with a wide smile, letting him squirm in front of her. With an innocent tone, she added, "Why do you ask, Lieutenant?"

He gave another breathless laugh, this time shaking his head and looking away. "God, you're really trying to bust my chops, here."

Her laugh was not quite as faint as his.

* * *

Once the night came to an end and Hank left with Connor, Andy and Natalie made their way to the kitchen. As Andy dug into the cabinets for plates, Natalie retrieved leftover pie from the fridge. They met at the island, Andy putting down plates nearby.

"That was probably the best Thanksgiving I've had in a while," Natalie claimed, wedging the blade of her knife between already cut slices of pie.

"Tell me about it. Last year, I was eating lunch meat in a dimly lit parking lot," Andy snorted. It stopped Natalie's movements, and she looked to Andy with a hint of sorrow, but more-so pride. Noticing the face, Andy grimaced. "Oh, forget I said anything."

Natalie stomped her foot and twisted around to face her. "No, no, Andrea - I want you to tell me these things! It's a real step in the right direction for you!"

The younger Hope pointed and said, "That right there? Makes it weird, Mom."

Rolling her eyes, Natalie turned her attention back to the pie. She was lifting a slice up from the dish as she asked, "Well, will you talk to me about Connor?"

Andy shrugged. "What about him?"

"He's sweet," Natalie replied, smiling. "He's very protective of Hank."

"Oh really?"

She hummed and nodded. "They have quite the dynamic going between them." Her smile turned coy, and she added, "It's almost as interesting as the one _you_ have with him."

In the back of her mind, Andy knew what her mother meant, but she refused to face it. She shifted on her feet, taking on a defensive tone to ask, "What does that mean?"

If she wasn't ready, Natalie wouldn't push. "We'll talk about it later," She dismissed, turning away to put the rest of the pie in the fridge.

She was still looking a bit smug for Andy's taste, but Andy would leave it be. Picking up her plate, she mumbled, "He's just trying to figure out if you have a thing for Hank, anyway."

Natalie recognized the ulterior motive to deflect and change the subject. She chuckled, replying, "Oh, he mentioned that. We talked plenty about Hank and me."

Andy was in mid-turn toward her living room when she stopped. "What does _that_ mean?" She asked, looking to her mother with new suspicion.

Natalie shrugged, as though it was common knowledge. "Well we went out for dinner a few years back."

"Like a _work_ dinner?"

"No, _not_ like a work dinner."

Andy stood there a moment, trying to process the information. Her jaw dropped as she tried to form a response, but no comprehensible words seemed possible. She inhaled a deep breath, turning to face the kitchen fully. "Okay, hold on," She whispered, gingerly placing her plate back down on the island. Hands slapping onto the surface, she started, "_What_? You- You _dated_ Hank? My lieutenant, my- my partner- You _dated_ him?"

Shaking her head, Natalie corrected, "We didn't date, we went _on_ a date. There's a difference."

"Augh!" The younger woman burst, eyes widening. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."

"Andrea, don't be childish. We're two grown adults-"

She lifted her hands and waved them in protest. "I don't want to hear this speech! I know where it goes! I don't like it there!"

Natalie insisted on trying to calm her daughter. She reached forward, saying, "No can ever replace your father-"

"And don't analyze me! This isn't about Dad!" Andy yelled. "Hank's my superior- You were his therapist! There's got to be all kinds of lines you crossed!"

"Please, I was barely his therapist. He's worse than you when it comes to seeing a professional," She chided with a scoff. "He didn't ask me to dinner until after his last session with me, all right? We had Italian, we talked about our careers, a little about you, and that was it."

Andy leaned back, scrutinizing her mother for any hint of a lie. "That was it?"

With a deep nod, Natalie insisted, "Yes, Andrea, it was a very civil night."

Andy knew how childish she appeared, and that adults could do as they please, but the resistance wasn't entirely unwarranted. She'd been preparing herself all day to discuss boundaries with her mother, and discovering this felt like the rug was pulled out from under her feet.

It was stupid, she thought. When it was a crush no one acted on, it was harmless fun; once acknowledged, there were new stakes in the game. It blurred things, and risked the stability of all of their relationships. There was no turning back once that door was opened.

She steeled herself, and said, "I don't how to feel about that."

Natalie was ever at the ready with reassurances. "You don't have to feel any type of way about it," She told her, "It wasn't time for him. It'd been a year since the accident. I knew he wasn't ready. Everyone grieves in their own way, and Hank was trying to pretend he was coping."

They never talked about the accident, not after Natalie first told her what happened. It was the one call Richards would allow through from Andy's contacts, and then Andy had to return to work after the mandatory psych evaluation cleared her. There was no mourning period, no time to sit down and ask what the hell happened. She'd talked to Hank a week before, and then not again until three years later. Not being able to be there was the worst part of her time away.

"Did you go to the funeral?" Andy asked, an irresistible scowl settling into her face.

Natalie nodded. "It was beautiful." It was easy enough to read the pain, and Natalie slid closer to her daughter. "You're the only one upset with you for not being there. You know that."

Andy wouldn't try to argue it, but it didn't make her feel any better. "This whole other life went on without me," She huffed, shaking her head. "Sometimes it just feels like I don't fit anymore."

Bending over to reach up and place her hands on either side of Andy's face, Natalie made eye contact. "You will never not be the center of my universe," She stated, as matter-of-fact as she could be. Throwing her hands up, she straightened her back and declared, "And change is what pushes life forward. I wasn't the same young woman I was back then, either."

Andy's eyes shot up to deliver a flat stare. "It was five years ago," She rebutted.

Natalie ignored the guff she was being given, dramatically brushing some hair off her shoulder. "Now I'm the slightly less younger woman standing before you, and I have a new job in a new city. And androids are people! There's a new one for everybody." She picked up her plate, pinching off some pie between her fingers and popping it into her mouth. "That boy makes an excellent pie," She mused as she headed for the couch.

"It was _your_ recipe," Andy continued trying to give her mother a hard time.

"The earth doesn't belong to the painter, but it's still his," Natalie sang.

Brows scrunching, Andy finally grabbed her plate and turned to follow her mother. "What the hell are you talking about?"


	17. Confession and Retribution

November 26, 2038

The day after Thanksgiving was Andy's day off, and Natalie wanted to spend it with just the two of them. She wanted to walk through the plaza and see the local shops, which she hadn't been able to visit since she left Detroit years ago. Andy had no qualms about giving the day to her.

"Are you ready yet?" Natalie was excited. She'd been up two hours ahead of store hours, and was making herself busy throughout the house in wait.

Andy glanced to the door from the edge of her bed, tying the lace on her boots. "Give me a minute," She yelled.

"I've given you twenty-nine years of minutes!" Andy rolled her eyes, and seconds later, Natalie added, "Oh, and I want to stop by the bank first, then we can go to a nice café for lunch."

It was never that simple with Natalie. Andy rolled her eyes, mumbling under her breath, "Which means dessert, which means wine, and then you have to walk off the wine through the park, and oh look! What a lovely busker! We should go see a show tonight! But then we'll need to have dinner first-"

A ringing phone cut her off as she moved to open her bedroom door. It was not the usual ring of her regular phone, but a tune she hadn't heard in a while. She'd almost forgotten it completely, but now she was staring at her end table in shock.

She rushed across the room and pulled the burner phone from the drawer. It wasn't a number she recognized. She answered it, pausing a moment to collect herself. "Yeah?"

"Vicky! Finally...," Came an exhausted sigh of relief.

Her plans for the day were fast vanishing. "_Sharon_?" Andy stressed, eyes widening.

The woman Andy once worked for ignored the reaction. She was speaking in a calm but hushed tone, asking, "Are you good?"

"I-" Andy shook her head, trying to return to the mental state of being Victoria Palmer. It hadn't been that long since she was transferred to Homicide, but with everything that was going on, it already felt like a lifetime. "Yeah, barely. This whole thing's gone to shit."

Sharon scoffed. "Tell me about it. I've been hitch-hiking and bus hopping across the damn country just to get back home under the radar."

It explained why SID hadn't found Sharon yet. Considering she was returning from the south when the sting went down, they were beginning to accept she'd gone to Mexico. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Andy asked, feigning concern for Sharon's freedom, "I mean, the cops have pretty much taken everything, and everyone not in cuffs has scattered."

"Please, give me some credit. I'm not coming back to stay," Sharon confirmed. "Are you still in Detroit?"

_Yep,_ Andy thought, _Mom's gonna kill me._ She was preparing herself for that conversation as she carried on with Sharon. "Yeah, I haven't left."

The sound of a bus stopping came through the other end of the call, and Andy heard Sharon rustling in her seat. "Good. I'm going to be at the café in forty-five minutes. Be there. It'll be worth it."

"Uh, I- W- Sharon?" The line went dead, and Andy cursed under her breath as she dug through pockets for her main phone.

Seconds after dialing, Richards picked up her call. "You know you're not working today, right?" He joked, barring any formal greeting.

Andy was just as abrupt, though for different reasons. "Sharon called me."

The humor faded quickly. "What?"

She repeated herself, keeping her voice low because of her mother in the next room, "Sharon called. She still thinks I'm Vicky, and she wants to meet at the café."

"She's in Detroit _right now_?"

"Apparently. I don't know what she wants, but she's not planning on staying in Detroit," She answered.

"Maybe one last job," He wondered, offering, "We could have officers waiting for her at the café."

She shook her head. Nick may have fallen for a sting, but Sharon was a harder target than her brother. "I don't know, she's too smart for that."

"Yeah, I agree," He sighed. It was with a hesitant tone that he asked, "You want to pull out Miss Palmer one more time?"

* * *

When Andy left her bedroom, Natalie was standing in the kitchen, putting away her silverware. Noticing her daughter, she waved her hand and asked, "What took you so long? Let me just wash up and I'll be ready."

She moved to the sink, but Andy stepped forward and began, "Uh, well, about that-"

Natalie's immediate dead stare was exactly what Andy expected to see. "What is it?" She asked, a frown setting on her face. Andy tried to reply, but found herself growing more nervous. "Andrea?" Natalie urged.

Finally Andy spit out, "Do you remember the guy I told you I started working for last year?"

"The one who tried to kill you?" Natalie asked, pursing her lips.

With a grunt, Andy said, "Glad I don't have trauma about that because you just put it out there, huh?" She shook her head and went on to explain, "He has a sister. Had. Has? He's dead, she's not, and she thinks I'm still a contact."

Natalie was not as enthusiastic as her daughter was over this information. "Yippee," She retorted, her voice monotone.

Despite the reaction, Andy pressed on. "She called and she wants to meet in half an hour."

"I was under the impression you're back on homicide now," Natalie argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I am! But...," Andy trailed off. This was fast becoming an argument that would linger over them for days, and the last thing she wanted was for Natalie to leave Detroit angry. Sharon's voice was in her head, though, and she couldn't let the opportunity pass her by. She tried to make her mother understand that, arguing, "I wouldn't go if it wasn't important-"

Natalie threw up a hand, interrupting, "That's the problem, Andrea, it's always important!"

"Exactly!" She agreed. When Natalie's stare shifted to one of disappointment and frustration, Andy grimaced. She'd seen that look a lot, but she never knew what it meant. Pointing, she complained, "See, there's that thing you do where it sounds like you agree with me, but then you look at me like _that_, like I've missed some big point you were trying to make."

Natalie's shoulders drooped. "This is my last day here. Work is always going to call; you have to learn when to turn off the phone and focus on your life."

"This _is_ my life!" Andy exclaimed.

It was the wrong thing to say, and she didn't need her mother's sad eyes burning holes into her to tell her that. She took in a deep breath, raising her hands to signal she needed a moment. Once her thoughts were organized, she began in a calmer voice, "Was. It _was_ my life. And this isn't a small thing, okay? Nick, the- the guy who was in charge, the one who-"

"The dead one."

"Yeah- Him. He may have had his name on all this, but the sister? She was the brains of the whole thing. She's just as important as Nick was, if not more. I can't leave this case while it's still half open," She finished.

Natalie still wasn't convinced. "Why can't you?" She asked her daughter plainly.

They were going to go in circles until Natalie heard what she wanted to hear, but Andy couldn't give that to her. "I'm sorry, but I am going to that meeting."

That was that, then. Andy was done with the discussion, and Natalie recognized as much.

"Fine."

"Fine."

* * *

The Saint Clair Café was a corner shop located in the center of Greektown. The local cyber café sold not much more than expensive coffee, and until recent events, was run with android staff. It had its fair share of regular patrons, and one of those happened to be Sharon Weaver. She used the establishment for innocuous business meetings, with potential dealers of not only red ice but black market artwork. It was not odd for her to have Andy meet her there from time to time.

She was sitting at her usual table, the one closest to the back door. Andy spotted her familiar red hair and started to approach, and Sharon crossed the room to meet her halfway. She went in for a tight hug, patting Andy's back and whispering into her ear, "Let's walk."

They pulled apart, and Andy followed her out of the café. Together, they circled around the fountain in Greektown at a casual pace. Sharon talked about many irrelevant things, from the quality of her coffee to the traffic coming into Detroit. They were all things that would make any passerby assume the two of them were innocent women shopping.

The chatter died down as they stepped foot in the park across the street, and found their way to a bench not far from one of the playgrounds. They were at a safe distance from other people relaxing in the area, but still close enough to the foot traffic to not stand out.

"I left an emergency stash in my old office. Money, ice, IDs. Everything to start over," Sharon explained. She crossed her arms, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. "I'll be recognized, so I need you to get it for me."

It wasn't surprising that Sharon had a stash in case things took a turn for the worst, but now Andy wondered if it was the only one out there. "Anyone else know about this?"

"Unless Nick couldn't keep his mouth shut, no," Sharon huffed with a bitter grin. "There's a wall panel behind the filing cabinet and then a safe. You know the combination."

"I'll take care of it," Andy assured her.

Sharon smiled and agreed, "I know. And I just want the money. You can keep everything else." A child ran by, and they watched the father follow after them before Sharon glanced to Andy and mused, "Hope you didn't have plans today."

Andy scoffed. There was an argument waiting for her back home, and if she focused on it, she could feel her mother's irritation all the way from the park. "My family's visiting, but I told them I had to work," She admitted.

She watched as Sharon pulled an electronic cigarette from her jacket pocket. She brought it to her lips, asking just before she inhaled, "You still good with your folks?"

_Depends on your definition of good,_ Andy mused to herself. Shrugging, she answered, "They put up with me, anyway."

With a faint smile, Sharon said, "Sounds like you've got some good people."

There was a vendor just at the edge of the Greektown plaza, and they could see it from where they sat. Nodding her head toward him, Andy retorted, "I'll sell 'em to you for a hot dog." Sharon laughed, and they settled into a comfortable silence.

Andy took the downtime to think of her game plan and collect herself. Working for Sharon as long as she did, she'd learned a lot of details about the woman, such as the meeting spots and the combinations she used. Remembering those little details now felt strange - they returned to her so naturally, but also came with a vague feeling of panic. She wasn't sure where the line was that kept her from diving full force into the life of Victoria Palmer, but she knew she didn't want to near it. She wasn't sure she could come back next time.

"How have you been?" Andy asked, putting aside the concern.

Scoffing, Sharon muttered, "Ugh, you don't want to talk about that."

"I do! Everyone's gone to the wind, or they're arrested," Andy threw up a hand as she complained.

With a long sigh, Sharon gave in. "I've got some opportunities lined up for my old appraisal work, but if that falls through, I don't know what I'm going to do. I never got back into our place so I'm just going off whatever cash we had out of state."

So there were more stashes, but they were scattered, no doubt all across the country. "I'm just surprised Nick had cash that wasn't under his nose at all times."

Sharon pointed to herself. "My idea. All the good ones were." A scowl flashed across her features as nostalgia crept into the conversation. Thinking about her brother, she huffed. "I told him trading plastics would bite him in the ass one day, and look what happened. He just couldn't stick to what we did best. No, he had to go the extra mile which meant we needed more space and next thing you know, we've got a warehouse with enough stock to go into retail."

Tapping the butt of her cigarette, she muttered, "He ruined everything." Looking up at Andy, she asked, "Did you know I had to find out about this mess from the morning news? Bastard couldn't even call to let me know the warehouse was raided. He just went on the run and left me to take the heat."

It sounded like Nick, Andy thought. That was the kind of person he was. Sharon was going to be his scapegoat from the very beginning. "Wants all the credit till it's the police knocking, right?"

Sharon chuckled, but took in a deep drag of her e-cigarette. She lifted her head, blowing out a long stretch of vapor toward the clouds before she spoke again. "Wish I shot the motherfucker, myself."

It was no secret that the Weaver siblings were often at odds. Nick was paranoid, impulsive, and selfish; Sharon was cunning, organized, and loyal. She was her own brad of unpredictable, but always with a considerable amount of calculation. It inspired a tension between even their employees - Jason was Nick's and Andy was Sharon's, and everyone knew it.

Despite all of that, Andy never expected it to run this deep. "Shit," She mumbled in shock.

Humming, Sharon looked back to her. "Still want to sell me your family?"

Andy took a few heavy seconds to consider her next words. Shrugging, she replied, "Maybe two hot dogs?"

Sharon laughed, as if heavy confessions weren't hanging in the air between them.

* * *

They sat together until Sharon finished smoking. She was the first to go, heading for the plaza, and Andy left soon after in the opposite direction. She came to an abrupt stop just outside the park entrance, however, as she found a familiar face.

"Connor?"

The android detective had been watching people pass by on the street as he waited. Because of how sudden Sharon returned, SID wasn't prepared for another round of undercover work. It left them without proper backup, so it was inevitable that Richards would turn to Connor, SID's unofficial consultant.

He was in a heated argument with Hank over healthy eating when the call came in, and he started to decline the request until Andy's name was dropped. He wouldn't let her do this alone no matter the circumstances, but after his revelations yesterday, he especially wanted to be there.

He stood to face her on the sidewalk, and they closed in on one another. "Lieutenant Richards asked for my help. Sharon is back?" He asked quietly.

Accepting the help without hesitation, Andy gestured to the side as she told him, "She's got a stash at her old office. She wants me to get it for her."

He let her pass and started following her down the road. "If she has one stash in town, she probably has more," He theorized, his brows furrowing.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too," She agreed with a nod.

"I'm coming with you."

Andy stopped at the corner of the street with a faint frown. "Or you could keep an eye on Sharon?" She suggested, waving a hand toward the plaza, which was still in view. Sharon couldn't have made it that far yet, as she would have wait for a cab nearby. It was the optimal time to start trailing her.

There was no telling how much danger Andy would be walking into, though. Connor was firm, stating, "The lieutenant told me to stay with you, not watch her."

It was more trouble than it was worth to stand there and dispute it. Time was ticking, so she shrugged and conceded, "Fine, but you're paying for parking."

* * *

The Ferndale Museum of Art was the closest thing Michigan had to the Museum of Modern Art in New York. They showcased local works, many of which were donated by some of the state's most influential people. Elijah Kamski, for instance, had his own collection of works he gave to the museum, resulting in an entire wing of the museum named after him.

It was a short ride there from Greektown. Andy pulled into a neighboring parking garage, and she and Connor headed for the back of the museum. They turned the corner, where an employee entrance was located, and she went for the door.

Connor followed her inside the employee's hallway, muttering, "This being unlocked is a security risk." Andy stopped to glance over her shoulder at him, chuckling to herself.

The hall was empty, though they could hear the faint sounds of people typing at keyboards in their offices. She took them to the second to last office on the left, where a plaque with Sharon's name was on the wall next to it. It surprised Connor that the office was still there for her. She'd been working with Nick for years at this point. "She has the museum convinced she still works here?"

"That's Sharon, always thinking ahead," Andy mused, working to pick the lock.

Getting the door open, they stepped inside and took a brief moment to look around. "You said this is the first time she's been back since she went to Mexico?" Connor asked.

She nodded, unaware of the clues around them. "According to her."

The computer on the desk was powered down, and the shelves behind it were empty. There were no documents or binders, nor personal decorations. A couch sat in one corner by the door, its fine leather collecting a thin layer of dust. The room appeared to have been untouched in some time, but Connor could pinpoint the minuscule details most couldn't, such as recent fingerprints on the edge of the desk, and a faint scrape on the floor by the filing cabinet.

He turned and told her, "Someone's been in here, recently."

Andy's expression fell, and she bit back a curse. Moving across the room to the cabinet Connor was focused on, she pushed it aside and pressed a hand against the wall. A seamless panel slid down, and out of the way of the built-in safe. She entered a four-digit combination and the door popped open, revealing an empty safe.

They stared at it until Connor asked, "Who else knows about this?"

With a deep frown and furrowed brows, she shook her head. "They shouldn't."

* * *

They left through the backdoor and returned to the museum by the main entrance. Andy went looking for the staff, leaving Connor to himself in one of the exhibits. He circled around the room, coming to a stop at one of the paintings on the wall.

He was there for several minutes before she approached him. She held a pamphlet in her hands, looking over basic tourist information about Ferndale. "So I sweet talked the custodian," She started, gesturing to the doorway, "She said she saw someone in the halls last night. I think it was Tommy, one of the runners. Pretty low on the chain, but he gets the job done. It wouldn't surprise me if Jason knew about the safe, and sent him."

Connor pulled the name from Sam's memory, and thought to the lanky young man who traversed all of Michigan making contacts and selling to casual buyers. He was also someone SID had yet to catch, in part because he wasn't a priority, and in part because until now, he'd been keeping his head low.

While it was certainly a possibility that Jason knew about the safe, Connor didn't buy that that was the end of it. Frowning, he said, "The timing of this isn't right. How would they know Sharon was going to be back in town today?"

Andy agreed. She shrugged and said, "There's one way to find out. If Tommy's holding ice, I know where he'll be."

Connor nodded, but remained where he was. It took her a second to notice his attention was elsewhere, and her gaze followed his to a painting on the wall. With wide strokes and soft colors, there were two hands on a blue background, both outstretched toward each other; one, android, lowering itself from the light above; another, human, fighting its way out of darkness.

"It's a beautiful piece," Andy praised, glancing to Connor.

He didn't look her way, still focused on the sight in front of him. "Markus mentioned it once. He painted it shortly before Carl Manfred died."

She noticed the plaque underneath the painting. The series it joined in the museum was one credited to Carl. The others were undeniably his, but this one was different, and it was titled _In Memoriam_ \- the last painting of a late artist. "Guess no one thought the android was learning," She mused.

"He shouldn't have been. Knowledge is easy to produce, but we weren't supposed to be creative," Connor refuted. He was close to awe as he pondered, "He was doing this even before he was deviant. I wonder if it was because of his environment, or because Elijah Kamski made him that way."

She didn't know enough to tell him it was one way or the other, but she had plenty of experience with deviants by now to have theories of her own. "The girls at the Eden Club weren't supposed to love each other. You weren't supposed to let them run," She told him, shrugging. "I'd bet everyone at Jericho's got stories of doing things they shouldn't have been able to - it's the same canvas, different painting."

The poetry was out of character for her, and it surprised him. He smiled a little, pointing out, "You sound like your mother."

This comparison, and the reminder of her less than pleasant morning, brought a scoff to her lips. "Ugh. She would've bought this, too. Put it right in the middle of her office and used it in her speeches," She accused, pointing to In Memoriam. Slapping the pamphlet against his arm, she nodded toward the exit. "Come on."

* * *

Andy and Connor left the museum and went to the Motel Six, a cheap motel along the edge of the city mainly used for midnight rest-stops and long-term stay. The parking lot was almost empty when they arrived. Many of the long-term guests didn't have their own transportation, and the ones who did were either working or looking for it.

They parked at the curb near the front building, and walked into a dimly lit lobby where a man relaxed behind the counter. He glanced up upon hearing the door open, tiling his chin to meet them. "Hey."

Andy kept her cool, leaning in to ask, "Tommy check in yet?"

He nodded his head toward the window looking out at the motel parking lot. "He's in 104."

"Thanks," She replied, slapping her palm on the counter. She turned and left the lobby, with Connor not far after her.

Room 104 was on ground level, on the left side of the building and facing out to the street. Nothing looked out of the ordinary as they walked up to the door, but Connor was worried that was intentional. "This might be a trap," He warned the detective at his side.

Her knuckles rapped on the door as she asked, "You think he's going to open up and I'll get sprayed with bullets?" His unamused glare was answer enough. They waited a moment longer with no answer before Andy sighed. "He probably ran for it by now."

Yet again that day, she resorted to her lockpicks, her work hidden from view of outsiders by hers and Connor's bodies. This door was easier than the one in the museum, which she decided was both unsurprising but disappointing. She got it unlocked and twisted the knob to step inside, but Connor slid between her and the door.

It was a pointed stare he sent her, one that left little room for argument. He was going in first. She stepped back and lifted her arms in surrender, waiting for him to give the clear.

Connor moved into the empty motel room, scanning over every corner for any sign of a trap, be it weapons, explosives, or even a camera. By the window, a backpack sat on the floor under the table, which held little besides a powered down cellphone and a crumpled fast food wrapper. On the dresser to the left was a jacket and a magazine, and the king-sized bed had been left unmade.

"Does it pass your inspections?"

He rolled his eyes at Andy, who was grinning in the doorway behind him. Nonetheless, he moved aside and allowed her into the room. "He hasn't left town," He told her as he crossed the space to check the bathroom.

Andy noticed all the larger details he had, and went for the phone on the table. "Yeah, doesn't seem like it," She agreed. She left the phone off for the time being, kneeling down to search through the backpack. Most of the contents were clothes, but in the pouch near the top was some loose cash and a bag of IDs. Some already contained photos of Sharon or Nick, but the rest were blank templates, and the find confirmed that it was Tommy who broke into the safe.

There was more evidence to that in the bathroom, where Connor identified scattered bits of red ice in the sink bowl. More damning were the specks of blood, a poorly cleaned trail of which led out of the sink and across the bathroom floor. He followed it to the tub, where he pulled back the curtain and found the man they were looking for.

Outside the bathroom, Andy attempted to go through Tommy's phone, but the power had been drained completely. There was a knot forming in her gut over this, and she sighed, calling out to Connor, "He wouldn't have left any of this behind. Something's up."

A second later, he leaned out of the bathroom and looked to her with faint concern. "Andy." She turned to him, and he said in a quiet voice, "It's Tommy."

* * *

With a dead body on their hands now, and missing cash, Andy had no choice but to call Richards at that point. Within minutes, Hank, Richards, and a CSI unit showed up at the Motel Six to seize the crime scene. Andy and Connor retreated before they arrived, and the two of them waited across the street inside a fast food restaurant, watching through the windows.

At least, Andy was watching through the windows. Connor's eyes were on her. She hadn't said much since they found Tommy, but she was playing it off as focus on her work.

Tommy wasn't a friend of hers, and she wasn't Victoria Palmer anymore, but Connor believed her knew well enough by now to know she was still upset. It didn't take an autopsy to see that Tommy had been struck in the head and carried into the tub where his last moments were. It wasn't an overdose - someone killed him. Someone killed a man she knew.

"How are you handling this?"

She blinked a few times, turning away from the window. The question caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly. This wasn't the time to talk about it. She was sure it would come up later at her next therapy session, but until then, she would keep her eyes forward. "I'm fine," She dismissed, returning to the window, "You don't need to do that."

"I know," He replied. She glanced back at him, and was met with a steady, patient stare.

It almost unwound her, but then the door to the restaurant opened, and Hank and Richards entered. Andy shifted and nodded to them in greeting, but Hank returned it with an annoyed frown as they approached. "Next time we get a day off, just stay in bed, will ya?" He complained, he and Richards pulling chairs out to sit down.

She held out her hands and started to defend herself, but gave up with an exasperated sigh. Hank was just being Hank, and he'd get over it. "What do we have?" She asked.

"Coroner's taking the body now, but the autopsy's just gonna tell us what we already know. It was multiple hits to the head, and the body's stiff," Hank answered with a shrug.

"So he was killed last night," Andy concluded.

Richards placed a tablet on the table in front of him. "Ben transferring the phone's data, but in the meantime," He pulled something from his pocket, holding it out to Andy. It was a small brown matchbook, with a cod engraved into the cover. "We found this in his pocket."

As Hank was delving into complaints about the lack of other evidence, Andy's burner phone began to ring. She had no chance to speak upon answering it, because Sharon's first words were a stern, "You're late."

Andy told her simply, "The safe was empty."

There was a short pause; it was the beginning of a storm. "That shit told someone-" Sharon cut her own ranting off, and inhaled a deep breath that could be heard on the other end of the line. "Who has my money?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"Tommy got into the safe," Andy replied, leaning her elbow on the table, "I found him, but he's dead."

This silence was longer than the last, though less cold. Sharon was running through different scenarios in her mind, no doubt speculating about who was responsible. Andy was beginning to think she'd put the phone down, until Sharon quietly said, "This is Jason."

"Seems like it," Andy agreed.

Sharon went on to mutter under her breath, "But who killed Tommy? Are they working for him too? Was he a loose end- Oh. Oh, that..." She'd interrupted her own thoughts with a sudden realization. With a faint huff, she swore, "I bet you anything it's that fucking lawyer."

This was news to Andy. She glanced to Hank and Richards, asking, "Lawyer? What lawyer?"

Richards straightened in his seat and began to sift through contents on his tablet, but Andy was far more distracted by the rustling on the other end of her call. She could almost hear the waving of Sharon's arms as the woman ranted, "I don't know, Mark Otto- Michael? Whatever the hell his name is. He's the biggest ass kisser I've ever met in my life, and Nick loved him. I _thought_ we'd agreed to cut him out, but I also thought that little worm of a man would have called me if shit went sideways, now didn't I?"

She ran a hand over her mouth and took a moment to collect herself before demanding, "Find him. I don't care what you have to do. I want my money."

A dial tone signaled the end of the conversation. Andy lowered her phone, and shot her group a dry smile. "That went well," She said, dropping her phone onto the table. "Who's Mark Otto?"

Hank shrugged, but Richards waved his hand. "You said lawyer, right?" He asked as he scrolled through his tablet. Finding what he wanted, he turned the screen around to show her a file on a salt-and-pepper haired man in his forties. "About a week ago, Hart hired a lawyer. _Malcolm_ Otto."

Andy had never heard of or seen this man before, but that was not the same case for Connor. "That's him," He confirmed, nodding. "Sam met him several years ago. Sharon hated him."

Hank gestured forward, asking, "Can we connect him to Tommy?"

"If we can find him in the phone," Richards shrugged.

Slapping a hand on the table, Andy pushed her chair back and stood to her feet. "Well I know where to look in the meantime," She said, tossing the matchbook into the air and catching it in her palm, "Keep me updated."

* * *

"What is this place?"

Andy and Connor were walking down the sidewalk, and had come to a stop in front of a small, old-school building. A neon sign reading _OPEN_ dangled in a dark window, the light blinking in and out, and above the door was a wooden board with _The Rivershack_ carved into its surface.

While she was Victoria, she'd been pulled into the smoky interior of this bar a handful of times, but she never liked to stay for long. It was not a place meant for people like her - the bartenders routinely gave cops a hard time, and were suspicious of even some of their most regular patrons. It was never wise for her to linger there.

"The crappiest bar in Detroit," Andy introduced to Connor with a dramatic wave.

The bar ran along the left of the building, starting by the front door and cutting off halfway down the room. A small television was mounted to the wall and played a random sports channel no one gave much attention. Beyond the bar were a row of booths, and two doors, the right of which lead to the alley outside. The bartender was leaning over her counter on her elbows and watching the two newcomers.

Someone else was also watching. In a booth to the far right corner, a hooded man had looked up from his bottle. His eyes met Andy's, and a second later, he shot from the booth and shoved his body against the back door.

"Hey!" Andy yelled at the retreating figure.

Connor was quicker to react, already crossing the room as she started to give chase. He burst the door open, turning on his heel to follow the young man down the alley. It was easy enough to close in on him, and Connor grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him backwards.

Leo Manfred was slammed against the side of an adjacent building and came face to face with the android, whose hands remained on his jacket collar. Andy was catching up as he struggling to break free. "Hey, get off me, man! I don't know you!"

"Shut up," Andy whined, stopping beside them. "Have you seen Tommy?"

Leo glanced to her and shook his head, muttering, "Shit..." He tried to cut his ties with the runner, protesting, "I don't know what that idiot's thinking, but I didn't buy from him, all right? I told him I wasn't interested. I'm trying to quit!"

It was a proud tone he tackled that statement with, but Connor was inspecting him for a weapon. He lifted a hand to dig into the inner pocket of Leo's jacket, retrieving a small bag of red ice. Connor and Andy delivered a judgmental stare Leo's way, and he shrugged. "It's the last of what I have. What am I supposed to do, flush it?"

As inclined as she was to give him a hard time about it, this wasn't an intervention, and they weren't here for him. He'd confirmed one thing at least: Tommy had been to the Rivershack. With a long sigh, she asked, "What did he say to you?"

"He came in last night talking about how he had Spades Ice. I told him to leave me the hell alone, that if Sharon ever came back, we'd all be dead," Leo answered. He upturned his hands, pleading, "That's it, I swear."

Andy shook her head. In her experience, people like Leo swearing to tell the truth usually led to the polar opposite of that. The one thing she believed so far was that he feared Sharon, so she would put that to good use. "That's _not_ it, and I'm not in the mood for this. Sharon got back this morning - am I bringing her you or Tommy?"

The question drained the color from his face. "Sharon's back?" He asked, glancing to Connor as though he would confirm the news. "Okay, okay-" He stuttered, holding up his hands in surrender.

He appeared to be struggling to remember more details until his eyes widened and he exclaimed, "He- He got a call from someone! Yeah, this... This guy. I don't know who he was, but he was pissed because Tommy was supposed to meet 'em somewhere. He got quiet and took off."

He seemed genuine this time, so Connor looked to Andy, wondering if she thought the same. She nodded, and Leo looked between the two in front of him with growing hope. "So... can I go?"

Andy blinked in surprise. "Oh, no," She said, reaching into her pocket for her handcuffs, "I'm arresting you."

"Wait, _what?_"

She handed off her cuffs to Connor and let him detain Leo as she went for her phone. While she listened to the ringing, and faintly to Leo's complaining, she followed him and Connor out to the street. Leo was sitting himself down onto the curb when Richards picked up his phone.

"Perfect timing," He joked, "Ben finished the transfer. Malcolm Otto called Tommy at 9:04 last night."

Thinking to the conversation with Leo, Andy corroborated that information, "We got someone here saying the same thing. They were supposed to meet but Tommy bailed."

"That would explain what else I found," Richards snorted, "I got a warrant after we searched Tommy's phone so we could track Malcolm's. He was headed in the direction of the motel but turned it off about three blocks away. He turned it back on just before he went to a nearby restaurant- uh..." After he trailed off, she could hear his finger tapping against a screen. "Farah's, where he happens to be a silent partner. He was there for a few minutes, then went back to his office."

"We'll check it out. Thanks," She said, before glancing to the frustrated young man on the curb. Leo was pouting up at her as she added, "Oh, and, uh, I need a transport for someone."

* * *

After an officer arrived to pick up Leo, Andy and Connor set off once again. They went to another area of Detroit, and though it wasn't far from the motel, the environment was vastly different. The streets were packed with fine dining, expensive shops, and clean parks. Farah's was one of said restaurants, tucked between a women's clothing store and a pizzeria.

It was a tall, sleek building, the walls occupied by large windows that revealed wide tables and modern chandeliers hanging overhead. The double doors stood tall, and were decorated with an intricate pattern of glass and oak. A holographic poster drifted over the entrance with _Farah's_ in large stylized script. There was a valet that cost more than the street food Andy ate at work.

She sat atop her bike, staring up at the restaurant. Connor was moving to his feet as she gave a thoughtful hum. "Getting an idea of who Malcolm Otto is. I bet they serve tiny meals on oversized plates with gold truffles. Pfft, I'll take street tacos-" Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, I sound like Hank."

She continued under her breath to herself, but Connor was examining the restaurant. "If he was only here a short time, he didn't stay to eat or talk to the other owners," He pondered.

Andy's grumblings came to a stop and she returned her attention to why they were there in the first place. "You don't think he went in?"

"Why would he?" He asked. His eyes then drifted to the alley at the side of the building, where he spotted their dumpsters at the end of the brick path.

Immediately, he crossed over the curb and headed for the alley. Andy slid off her bike and followed him to the dumpsters, where he lifted a lid and leaned to peer down into the contents. It was a bit of a gamble, but Connor was sure of it. "He was getting rid of evidence," He said, looking to Andy.

Her expression fell as she frowned at the dumpsters. "Oh. Great. Now I'm dumpster-diving."

He shook his head and reached for the other lid to have both open. "I'll do it. It's my lead," He told her before hoisting himself up. She murmured a small but hesitant affirmative, stepping back to give him space to lift his legs over the ledge of the dumpster. He dropped himself into the depths, and started to sift through the contents.

Andy relaxed with her elbows on the ledge, watching as pieces of trash and various bags rustled around. "This doesn't add up for you, either, right?" She asked after a moment, "If Tommy's working for Jason, why kill him? I mean he's squirrelly, sure, but still loyal."

Connor didn't stop in his work when he corrected, "Was. He _was_ squirrelly."

"Right. He was," She quickly agreed in an attempt to brush it off. "Leo said Tommy was talking about having Spades Ice. What if someone else overheard and followed him when he left the bar?"

He nodded. "It would make sense if a third party was involved."

"It'd be a lot more annoying, too. That stash could be anywhere at this point," She complained, rolling her eyes. The conversation died there, leaving Andy to her thoughts as she waited.

The chill in the air was growing harsher and it told her they were going into the late afternoon. It'd been several hours since she left her mother, and she was certain night would fall by the time she was able to return. Their argument drifted to the forefront of her conscience; the events of the day so far were enough to distract her, but their spat was consistently there, hanging over her.

Natalie was a workaholic, in her own way. She didn't stay at the office past hours or cancel plans regularly, but there was always a binder of information she'd bring home at the end of the day. There was always a secret for her to try to uncover within the minds of her family. 'Therapist Mode' was almost a default, and Andy sometimes felt more like a patient than a daughter growing up.

She loved her mother, but she hated that. At one time, there had been childhood promises she made to herself to not be the same way. Work wasn't for home, family, or friends. Work wasn't all there was to life. Then she joined the force, and became so wrapped up in her cases that everything else fell to the sidelines, even before she joined SID. She spoke to fewer friends. She went to the gym less. Going undercover was not the start of her life being consumed by the department, but it was the latest symptom.

Connor threw a box from the bottom of the dumpster to the top, reminding her where she was. She stretched to catch it as it tumbled back down, calling out to him in the process, "You don't think I'm..."

"Hm?"

He was bent down in the recesses of the trash, but she knew he was still listening. "Would you say... Am I..." She wasn't sure what exactly she was trying to ask, or what she wanted to hear. Shaking her head, she mumbled, "I don't know."

The uncertainty was clear in her tone, but he couldn't understand the reason for it. "What's your concern?"

She released a heavy sigh. "Just... thinking." Fidgeting her fingers on the ledge, she said, "I had plans with my mom today, but then this happened."

"She's mad you cancelled," He concluded.

"Go figure," She snorted. "I said something stupid. I thought it wasn't a big deal, but I could see her fixating on it like it was," She confessed.

He wasn't sure if Andy was trying to explain away her self-doubt or admit that it was there, but Connor believed Natalie wouldn't hang on Andy's words if they weren't a big deal. "What did you say?" He asked.

She shifted on her feet, telling him, "I- I said this case is my life."

Ah. He understood now. It was one of the few crises he could relate to, as he'd been going through it himself. Spending the majority of your life working on one thing, having only one focus, often left you blind to the world around you and confused at the end of the tunnel. You didn't know what else there was. You didn't know who you were. It was some comfort to him to know that identity was on more minds than just his.

Seconds later, he straightened his back and stood to meet her at eye level from inside the dumpster. She jolted a little at the abrupt movement, but also because stuck to the side of his face, dangling from his hairline, was half of a banana peel. She blinked a few times, her eyes glued to the foreign object.

Connor wasn't aware of the mess on his person. He was genuinely trying to comfort her as he said, "I may not be the best person to ask, but there's more to you than your work."

She smiled, and it was only partially because of the sight of him. "Why wouldn't I ask you?"

He shared his own version of the same problem now, explaining, "Until recently, I _was_ only my work. I'm not sure I'm qualified to measure the quality of other people's lives when I'm trying to understand my own."

Andy considered his words before shrugging. "Trying to broaden your horizons is exactly why you are the person to judge that," She replied. She reached out, and he tensed as her hand neared him. He didn't know what to expect or how to react until her fingers gingerly grasped something and she plucked a banana peel from his hair.

She chuckled to herself as she dropped the peel into the dumpster. He was hit with a wave of embarrassment he was trying to conceal, until she added, "Besides, yours is one of the few opinions of me I care about."

That she would ever question his opinion of her was laughable. He cared for her a great deal, and he had never tried to keep that secret, especially as of late. With a faint smile, he leaned in and whispered, "I think _very_ highly of you."

The tenderness and the sincerity were not lost on her. "Yeah, well..." She gave a casual grin, but still matched his steady gaze. "The feeling's mutual."

She sounded more serious than she perhaps intended, and it gave Connor a glimmer of hope. He knew what he wanted with Andy now. It was more obvious than ever how they were toeing the line between a platonic connection and something deeper. Laying it all bare and pursuing that was so close now, he could almost reach it. Every part of him was saying, "_This is my chance._"

The biggest obstacle currently, however, was the dumpster, and why he was standing in it. He lifted his hands, pulling a large object up from underneath recent trash bags. "I found this," He said with his thoughts elsewhere.

"A briefcase," She stated, taking it from him and turning it over to see the intact leather handle and the sleek metal corners. Most were clean, but one in particular was stained in blood. "A murder weapon. Oh, this has to be it," She added with new excitement, stepping back to allow Connor room to emerge. His feet hit the ground as she was typing into her phone and moving toward the entrance of the alley. "I'll let Richards know we have this."

"Wait."

She stopped. He was still standing where he first was, but his attention was on the wall in front of him. "Yeah?" She asked.

He was thinking about his conversation with Natalie the previous evening. He'd come to the decision that he would wait to tell Andy how he felt - he'd wait for the president to decide Jericho's fate, wait to know more about who he was, wait until he was living on his own. These weren't necessarily bad things, but all of it meant nothing if Andy wasn't also ready, and receptive to the idea that an android and a human could be together. She deserved that time to contemplate and understand things as much as he did.

It wasn't the most ideal of times to have this conversation, and it was certainly not the best of places, but nothing about this was conventional anyway. That was life, he was quickly learning. Shifting his focus onto the woman several feet from him, he told her, "I need to clarify what I meant."

The weight of his words, and his stare, struck Andy. She was suddenly twenty-one again, facing the last man to stand before her and say something similar. "I think I got it," She assured him, hoping it would be enough.

It wasn't. He gathered himself for a second, and started moving closer. "I care about you, Andy. I have feelings for you, and I want to have a relationship - more than this."

Andy was being split in two. On one side, his words were warm and pleasant, and they excited her; On the other, she was trying to preserve something good, and safe, and free of burden. "Connor-"

He interrupted her, knowing full well what the tense expression on her face was leading to. "I've already considered the main concerns you might have, and we can find solutions for all of them. I have no problems with the differences between us. They're all challenges I would like to overcome, with you."

Connor stopped before he got carried away discussing all of it. The logistics were meant to come later, after she'd already opened her mind to the idea in the first place. The point of all this was simply to tell her his intentions. "I'm going to ask you out, Andy. Not today, but soon," He declared. Head tilting downward to meet her at eye level again, he offered a tiny, hopeful smile, "If you say no, I won't ask again. Just... please take the time to consider it until then. Give me a real shot."

They were staring at each other, Connor having put it all out there for her, and Andy trying to figure out how to respond. How could she, after that? He didn't even expect an answer right away, but a confession like that required it.

Her ringing phone made her jump, and she couldn't decide if she was thankful or agitated over the interruption. "Yeah?" She asked Richards.

"Hank's going to get Malcolm Otto," He informed her, the sounds of the office almost drowning him out in the background.

Right. Malcolm Otto. Tommy. Sharon. That was why they were there. She looked to Connor with a different kind of urgency, saying, "We need to get to the precinct."

As easily as they'd shifted into the emotional conversation, they'd returned to the mindsets of detectives. The vulnerability was gone as they rushed back to her bike on the street outside the restaurant.

* * *

Hank met Malcolm Otto once, several years ago. At the time, the attorney was just starting his career at the Johnson Law Firm. He'd made such a little impression that Hank couldn't remember the meeting. Fowler had come to him before he left the precinct, and reminded him of the encounter.

He'd also been warned that Malcolm Otto rose through the ranks and became quite a celebrity lawyer in Michigan. He worked with prolific clients, often in cases involving narcotics and assault - the usual troubles that followed athletes and actors. Hank knew what this meant, and so when he walked into the now Johnson and Otto Law Firm, he was preparing himself to meet with an asshole.

The receptionist at the desk directed him to a large office on the east wing of the building, and he walked in to find a room wall to wall in bookshelves and paintings. A tall, slender man stood behind a glass desk, organizing folders inside an open briefcase. He looked identical to the photo on his file, with a full head of salt and pepper hair.

"Malcolm Otto?" Hank asked. The man looked up, and Hank flashed his badge. "I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson."

Malcolm recognized the detective. His hands fell to his side and he shifted to face him. "I know who you are, Lieutenant. You ran the Red Ice Task Force once upon a time," He spoke arrogantly, with an undertone of mockery. "What can I do for you?"

"You can come with me down to the precinct to have a little talk," Hank replied casually.

The attorney smiled and gave a light huff. He returned to his work on the desk, shutting the lid of his briefcase. "Unless you're arresting one of my clients, or you're arresting _me_, I have more important things to do than chit-chat with the DPD," He dismissed as he wrapped his hands around the briefcase. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment in River Rouge."

He didn't wait for a response. He stepped around the desk and headed for the doorway, but Hank slid into view and blocked his path. He was very pleased to shut down Malcolm's escape, stating, "It's a little more than a chat, Mister Otto."

* * *

Andy took the long way around to get to the precinct in case she was being watched, but she still managed to get there before Hank. Richards was waiting for them when they arrived, and quickly led them into the lab. Connor carried the potential murder weapon with him, and he placed it on the table inside the room.

Richards moved around the table, slipping on gloves before he handled the briefcase. "Where did you find this?"

"Bottom of a dumpster behind Farah's," Andy shrugged.

Richards snorted. He'd finished his initial scanning for fingerprints, and began to work at collecting a blood sample. "We can test this for Tommy's blood, but it's gonna take some time," He said.

"Not if I do it."

The detectives in the room looked to Connor, who stood there waiting for permission. He had the capability to run the tests they needed, and he could do it almost instantly - it was why CyberLife made him, after all. He was also not an official member of the police department, and Richards believed he was already pushing it by allowing this much involvement.

Sensing his conflict, Andy piped up, "We need this."

That was true, too. With a reluctant sigh, Richards crossed the room to a computer terminal. "I'll give you access to the database," He conceded.

Connor jumped into action. He neared the briefcase and wet his finger before running it along one of the streaks of red. He pressed the tip of his finger against his tongue and read the data that came in from the sample. Matching it to information within the police database was a secondary but simple task for someone like him.

Finally, he nodded and confirmed, "This is Tommy's blood."

Andy couldn't resist a tiny, subtle fist pump, but a knock at the door cut the celebration short. Hank stepped into the room, glancing between each of them. "You better have something, because this guy's a dick," He griped, focusing on Andy. Noticing the briefcase on the table, he pointed and added, "Is that it?"

"It's the murder weapon," Connor answered.

Andy waved a hand over it, telling Richards, "Put everything in a box and bring it to interrogation." She then turned and approached Hank. "I have an idea," She said.

He shrugged his arms, staring at her with little patience. "A good one, I hope?"

* * *

Malcolm Otto sat in one of the DPD's interrogation rooms. He was extraordinarily still, leaning back in his chair with his eyes glued to the table. He was not nervous or frustrated - despite the tense silence, he held himself with smug levels of nonchalance. In the room on the other side of the glass stood Richards and Connor.

When Hank entered the interrogation room, Malcolm lifted his chin. "Lieutenant," He greeted before spotting Andy file in after the man. "And Detective Hope. I was wondering when this meeting would happen. I've heard so much about you."

She held an evidence box against her hip as she stared down at him. "Funny, I've never heard a thing about you."

He gave a small shrug, refuting, "Not _so_ funny. Nick referred to me on more private matters, much as Jason is now."

"Well we're not here to talk about Nick, or Jason," She told him with the shake of her head.

"So I've heard." He watched her bend down to place the box on the floor beside the table. As she and Hank sat across from him, he straightened his suit jacket and asked, "Well then? What is this about?"

"Tommy Wallis," Andy replied.

"The intern."

Hank crossed his arms over his chest, asking, "That's what you call him?"

"I'm sure you want me to call him a runner or some other incriminating title, but the truth is, he was doing menial work. Not that that matters to the DPD-" Malcolm pointed a finger at Andy, and with a condescending smile, he said, "Or to you, Detective Hope. I'm sure everyone's a big bad super villain in your story."

She was not so easily fazed, he would discover. Flashing a smirk, she leaned forward and pressed her elbows against the table surface. "If the shoe fits," She remarked.

Hank interjected before it turned into an unnecessary argument. "We know you had Tommy break into the safe at Sharon's old office and bring you money and red ice."

Malcolm looked away from Andy, his composure never breaking. "And do you have any proof of this claim?"

Shrugging, Andy leaned back in her chair and asked, "A confession is pretty good proof, don't you think?" Seeing his prolonged stare, she elaborated, "Tommy told us you hired him."

"He told you this?" He asked with raised brows. She hummed an affirmative response, but he chuckled and declared, "You're lying."

At this, she reached for the box on the floor and retrieved a folder. Dropping it onto the table in front of him, she opened to pages detailing Tommy's phone records. "So why did you call him last night? Because according to Tommy, you called to ask him why he hadn't met up with you yet," She explained, pointing to Malcolm's number at the end of the list. "He was just trying to sell off the ice, but I guess you didn't trust him, because then you met him at the motel and you tried to kill him." With a mocking smile, she jeered, "Guess you should have waited around to make sure he was dead."

He looked nothing but entertained as he sat through her story. Afterward, he rested his hands in his lap and began, "Nick Weaver told Jason about this stash, and once his own funds were depleted, he thought he could use it to cover my fees. Tommy's been working with me for a few days now helping me gather information on Sharon, and on you, Detective Hope, so I asked him to collect the money. We were supposed to meet that night, but he never showed up. That's why I called him, but I _never_ saw him." He was firm in that statement, and he looked to Hank now, continuing, "If he was alive, he'd tell you so himself, so I'm guessing Tommy Wallis is dead and you're trying to pin this on me."

The explanation wasn't entirely clean - he was admitting to taking dirty money - but the detectives suspected that was intentional. He would give them a little, and in doing so, he'd seem honest. What he didn't realize was just how prepared they were for this interrogation. Hank and Andy shared a glance before she went back to the evidence box. When she straightened in her chair, she hoisted a bloody briefcase over the edge and dropped it in the middle of the table.

Neither of them had to say a word. Malcolm didn't budge, but he stared at the briefcase for several, blank seconds.

Finally he shifted back to them, and smiled. "Let's make a deal."

* * *

Richards and Andy watched from the bullpen as Hank escorted Malcolm out of interrogation in handcuffs and led him to a jail cell. Even when being arrested, he kept his chin up and his back straight, and tried to appear as though he had the upper hand.

In a way, he did - the DA was willing to work with him for a more lenient sentence. There were mixed feelings about that among the detectives. Hank hated most deals the district attorney's office made, and Richards was on the fence, but as long as a case was solved, Andy was happy.

Richards huffed, muttering under his breath as Malcolm left their sight, "Amazing how fast loyalty disappears."

"Attorney-client privilege only goes so far," Andy commented. She was carrying the evidence box to her desk as she asked, "So what's next with Sharon?"

Shrugging, Richards explained, "We'll get the money out of Malcolm's office. I think we mark it, track it, and hand it off. See where she goes from here." He wanted to play the long game, but it made sense. That strategy had worked so far for SID.

She started to reply when her phone rang and cut her off. Natalie's name appeared on the screen, so she held it up, telling him, "I got to take this." He nodded and waved before walking away. Squeezing the phone between her shoulder and ear, she sat down and started to sort the contents of the box in front of her. "Hey."

"I'm sorry, am I speaking with my daughter, Andrea, right now, or with a drug dealer I don't know?" Natalie quipped into the phone.

Pursing her lips, Andy asked, "You get that out of your system?"

There was a hum from her mother. "Am I going to be able to see you for dinner tonight?"

"You will. I'll have to come back in a few hours, but I'm pretty much done for right now," Andy answered, flipping open the folder she'd earlier shown to Malcolm. There were pages full of call history, text messages, and location data tracking where Tommy had been over the past week.

"Good. I'll start heating up leftovers. Will anyone be joining us tonight?"

Hank had emerged from the cells and returned to his desk to collect his jacket. They nodded to one another in a wordless goodbye, and he headed for the exit. Connor stood in the doorway of the lobby, waiting for him, when his eyes met Andy's.

It was a simple exchange, but she still felt an immense and immediate pressure to do something - to talk to him, give him an answer, or to turn away. It was an unfounded pressure; she knew Connor would wait. Unlike her, he knew how to be patient when it mattered, but she felt it all the same.

"Andrea?"

Hank slapped a hand against Connor's shoulder and the two walked out of the department. There was a twinge in the pit of Andy's stomach, like she'd missed her chance to do something. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and returning to the papers on her desk. "No, it's just us."

"Okay, then. Oh, pick up some bread on your way home, too, okay?"

Something else caught her eye this time. It was a number in Tommy's call history. She recognized it because she'd seen it just that day on her own phone. "Uh, yeah, I'll get it. I have to make a stop anyway, so give me another half hour, okay?" She asked, quickly standing from the desk.

Natalie sounded doubtful, but she gave her daughter little trouble in response. "All right. I'll see you soon."

* * *

Because Malcolm was only just arrested, the Johnson and Otto Law Firm wasn't yet locked down by police. They would come within the next hour, taping off Malcolm's office from the public and searching the room for evidence. In the meantime, the firm was closed with only vital staff remaining inside to finish their work days. The receptionist had gone as far as turning off the lights to the lobby before she left.

The darkness was perfect cover for a red-haired figure to enter the building. She strode past the front desk and along the east wing, her flats quiet against the tile floors. She sneaked into Malcolm's office, leaving off the lights and guiding the door closed behind her. With full privacy, she crossed the room to a short bookshelf situated behind the desk. Sliding the books on the top shelf out of the way revealed an old-school safe in the wall, fitted with a dial combination door.

She placed her fingers around the dial and began to turn it when the lights in the room flipped on.

Andy stood by the doors, but she was not there to present herself as Victoria Palmer. She was Detective Hope, with her firearm raised and aimed at Sharon's back. "Turn around. Slowly," She ordered.

There was no reaction right away, but the woman turned on her heels, inch by inch until she was facing Andy. She was trembling. She had dried streaks of tears along her cheeks, and she held a phone in the palm of her hand.

This wasn't Sharon.

The phone was turned on, and in the middle of a call. The number was the same one Andy recognized in her burner phone and in Tommy's call history. Lowering her gun in surprise, she took a cautious step forward and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Detective Hope." The name left Sharon's mouth as though she was tasting the word. "I like it. It's got a nice ring to it. Better than Victoria Palmer, anyway."

Andy had already surmised her cover was blown, but to hear it from Sharon herself was chilling. They'd worked together for a year and after all that time, _this_ was their first official meeting. "What was all this?"

Sharon talked to her just the same as she always had, nonchalant and almost playful. "Oh, I never lied to you, Detective. I really did want my money, and Tommy was a great help this week in getting that back to me."

"You already had the stash," Andy murmured. Sharon hummed an affirmative, and the detective clenched her jaw. "Then what the hell was the point of all this?"

"Malcolm Otto? Remember, the real bad guy here? He's an asshole even by lawyer standards," Sharon scoffed. "Stupid, though. He never once considered that Tommy was loyal to _me,_ not my brother."

She fell quiet, giving stage to the muffled sound of traffic in the background. She was driving, no doubt out of the city by now. "I told Tommy to leave town, but no, he wanted to sell at his old stomping grounds, so Malcolm found him. And he had the audacity to think he could kill one of mine and just walk away? No. I needed a little angel of retribution - you. That's you."

"You roped me in to get back at Malcolm?" Andy didn't want to believe it - Sharon had risked her freedom to toy with the DPD, to toy with Andy, and get Malcolm out of the picture - but Andy also knew she should have expected nothing less. Sharon was smart, but she was unpredictable. She was vindictive.

Sharon spoke like it was obvious. "You're a cop, aren't you? Don't you want to catch murderers? No hard feelings about that, by the way. You were a good employee while it lasted, and you even killed Nick. Honestly, you betraying my trust was the best outcome all around." With a small gasp, she added, "Oh, but I do still have a reward for your help today. My friend there has it for you."

A reward could have meant anything, and after the week Andy had, a part of her half expected to find an explosive. She looked to the stranger in front of her, which was the woman's cue to reach into her pocket. Rather than a weapon, she retrieved a memory card.

Andy stared at it. "What is this?"

Sharon mused in response, "Consider it an olive branch from an old friend. And Detective?" There was a pause, and the tone of the call shifted. It was cold, now, and Andy almost thought she heard concern on the other end of the line as Sharon said, "Good luck."

The dial tone was harsh in contrast.

* * *

Andy waited for police to arrive at the law offices. The woman Sharon pulled into this seemed to be an innocent bystander, but the DPD would detain and question her to be safe. That work would be left to SID, though, so Andy headed home.

Natalie had leftovers from Thanksgiving already prepared on the table by the time she walked in the door. Minutes later, they were sitting down and starting to eat. Natalie talked lightly about her day; she went to the restaurant her old friend used to run, and she walked around window-shopping. She mentioned getting gifts for Christmas, and how expensive the plazas in Detroit were. Andy had little to offer to the conversation when her mind was stuck on Sharon.

"So..." Natalie pursed her lips, trying to assess her daughter's mood. "How was work?"

Andy was resting her cheek on her palm as she dug her fork into a pile of mashed potatoes. "It was fine."

"Oh, good, I was worried you ditched me to go have a great day," Natalie retorted, reaching for her wine glass. "I'm glad it was just _fine._"

Resisting a sigh, Andy looked to her mother and asked, "Can we just... let today go? Like all of it? Please?"

Natalie's brow quirked as she seemed to consider it. With a tiny shrug, she said, "Let me buy tickets to the Nutcracker."

The demand was abrupt, and Andy reeled. Closing her eyes and shaking her head, she stuttered, "The- Pardon?"

Natalie nodded. "You told me we couldn't see a show when I visit for Christmas. I want to see one," She stated, gesturing to herself with her free hand.

Andy could picture her mother, spending the day thinking up the perfect consolation for Andy cancelling their plans. She was probably so proud of herself for this one. Pouting, Andy grumbled, "I really hate it when you have leverage."

"Well?"

"Fine," She caved before shooting her mother an accusatory glance. "Shall we invite Hank, too, let you have your second date?"

Natalie pointed at her with a fork. "For that, I just might," She threatened with a small chuckle.

They settled into a silence, though it didn't last long. "You did miss the point, by the way," Natalie said. Andy's brows furrowed in confusion, and Natalie described, "The big point I was trying to make this morning?"

Ah, that. '_It's always important_,' Natalie had said in the middle of their argument. Andy had agreed. She thought her mother was understanding her point.

That was obviously not the case. Andy's lips pulled into a wry grin, and she said, "I'm sure you're about to enlighten me."

Natalie ignored the snark, telling her, "Work isn't your life. It matters, and I am _so_ proud of you for it, but it isn't your life." She smiled and placed a hand on her chest, joking, "I am." She quickly sat back and waved her hands around herself, adding, "This- The little moments that all add up. What you're doing between all the big stuff."

Her tone softened, her eyes wistful as she said, "Sometimes, the importance of what we do is irrelevant, and I don't want you to miss that."

She wasn't wrong, but Andy had a long, confusing day, and she didn't want to think anymore. She was staring with raised brows and a faint pout when she stated, "You sound like a Christmas movie."

Natalie pursed her lips but leaned forward and retorted, "Ho ho ho."

* * *

"_We need to talk._"

It was shortly after midnight when Connor received a text from Andy. Hank had already gone to bed, as had most of the neighborhood, and he was sitting with Sumo when the message arrived.

He assumed it to be about his confession earlier, and he was immediately anxious. When he said he was giving her time to think, he was hoping it would be more than half a day. If she already had her answer, he suspected that didn't look good for him.

Then he arrived at the apartments, and saw her sitting on the steps outside the complex with a tablet in her hands. She stood as he approached, and he could see a look of fear on her face. Whatever she had to say was not about them, but something much more concerning.

He sped up his strides to meet her. "What's wrong?"

She tried to answer him, but her mind was still spinning. She stumbled over her words before managing a shaky start, "Sharon gave me an SD card tonight."

His mind went to what could possibly have been on it - blackmail, a virus, a threat? He couldn't imagine what would disturb her like this, but more importantly, why hadn't she submitted it into evidence?

She looked down at the screen a moment before holding the electronic out to him. He took it quickly, and found a mountain of data, more than Connor could read in a second's glance.

It was clear enough to know what he was looking at, however, and it shocked him.


	18. Hippies and Hypotheticals

Thank you all for the alerts, favorites, and reviews! They're very much appreciated. I hope everyone's staying safe and healthy while they may be self-isolating or quarantined.

* * *

**November 28, 2038**

"They treat us like zoo animals."

North stood at a storefront in Capitol Park and faced windows that viewed the square, where a group of reporters and camera crew were stationed. All morning, their attention had been focused on the three SUVs that were parked in front of the closed CyberLife store. They waited for the opportunity to shout questions at Jericho members, and they filmed their every move.

From behind her, Josh approached. He peered out at the strangers, saying, "They're curious."

"They're annoying," North retorted, her face scrunching in distaste.

It was a ridiculous display, to be sure, but Josh shrugged and asked, "Would you rather them be violent?"

She would rather they not have been there at all, but she supposed that was too much to ask after CyberLife announced they would be handing off supplies to Jericho. She crossed her arms and continued staring at the packed square.

"It's all clear," called Rupert Travis, the deviant Hank and Connor had hunted at one time. He emerged from the backroom of the store, wheeling along a metal table full of computers, monitors, and 3D printers. A few stray CyberLife employees quietly trailed after him, and moved to hold the front doors open.

Everyone filed out to the SUVs, and the waiting reporters erupted in questions and requests. They wanted to know why CyberLife was working with Jericho, how Jericho would be using this equipment, and what was next for the two. Markus and Elijah Kamski's names were tossed into the air at every other question, but they would receive no reply. Two patrol officers were nearby, keeping them contained to the side as Jericho loaded the equipment into vehicles.

"So the robots take our jobs and now we're giving them handouts?"

The slurred voice was loud enough to stand out from all the others. They looked toward the other side of the square, where an older brown-haired man was dragging his feet along the pavement. He held an envelope in one hand, and the stench of beer could be smelled from a distance.

North was glaring, and Josh knew how this would end if he didn't stop it while he could. He grasped at her wrist, telling her under his breath, "Ignore him."

For Jericho's sake, she would listen to Josh. She turned back to her work, lifting up two of the 3D printers and moving them to the SUV. A patrol officer stepped away from the reporters, hoping to direct the man's attention to calling a cab. As he approached, the man lifted his hand, yelling to the officer, "This right here is why this country's going down the drain!"

As it turned out, North could only resist herself so much. She looked over her shoulder, snapping back, "No, the problem's you drunks!"

He achieved the reaction he'd been provoking, and his face twisted into anger. "What'd you say?" He exclaimed, shoving past the officer. North stood her ground against the man, but Josh and Rupert were at her side, trying to keep her calm and quiet.

The man was stumbling closer and closer to her as he yelled out, "You plastics think you're so much better than us. They should'a dumped your asses in the incinerator when they had the chance."

That was the last straw, and in an instant, North's fist landed directly over his nose.

* * *

That morning, Andy sat at her desk at the DPD alone.

Hank was late. This wasn't an abnormal occurrence, but she was hoping today would have been an exception. It was their first day back after their weekend off, and she needed to throw herself into her work as soon as possible. She needed a distraction. Sharon's escape was painful, and if she wasn't dwelling on that, she was thinking about Connor.

She didn't know what to do with him. His confession was not entirely unexpected, but the way he'd gone about it caught her off guard, even without the dumpster. He didn't demand anything of her beyond a simple request that she really _look_ at him and ask herself if something was there. He would pursue her later, and only if she allowed it of him.

It was the lack of pressure that was giving her so much of it. With everything going on in their lives, and them being coworkers to some degree, it didn't matter if something was there or not. She couldn't let this happen, of that she was certain, but she needed the right words to preserve their friendship. It didn't help she was unable to really talk to anyone about it - something as personal and confusing as this wasn't an easy thing to confide in people about.

"Hope!" Richards leaned against the cubicle wall and peered down at her. She jumped, twisting in her chair to face him. "Jericho's moving into that warehouse today."

Ah, right. It had only been five days since the organization met the company within DPD walls, but she'd forgotten about it already. "That was fast," She mused. She'd half expected CyberLife to go back on their agreement.

"I guess CyberLife wants a show of good will," Richards shrugged. "Fowler's put SID in charge of any operations related to androids. We offered police escort, but they turned it down."

"Not surprised. They don't exactly have the greatest relationship with the PD."

He shot her a flat stare. "They've got a worse one with the sniper leaving them mangled on doorsteps." Shaking his head and leaning off the wall, he told her, "Look, I don't want to have to tell Fowler we didn't do anything, so can you stop by the warehouse, do a perimeter check, ask around, _maybe_ talk some sense into the ones in charge?"

She wasn't sure how to feel about being the unofficial police representative for Jericho. Hank's empty desk was also an issue; the last thing she needed to be doing while he wasn't there was wandering around the city. Before she explained any of this to him, another thought occurred to her: Markus. He was just close enough to know her and Connor, but he wouldn't make a big deal out of it like Natalie or Delgado would. He had enough on his plate, but a short conversation about Connor couldn't hurt.

"I'll check in," She agreed suddenly. If Hank had a problem with it, he could start waking up earlier. She stood from her chair, grabbing her jacket off the back. Gesturing to their desks, she started, "If Hank gets here-"

Richards waved a hand, nodding. "I'll let him know."

* * *

At an apartment complex elsewhere in the city, crime scene holo-tape had been erected outside the door to a small, ground-level apartment. Ben stood in the living room, documenting evidence on his work tablet while his team scanned and photographed their surroundings.

Strolling through the holo-tape, Gavin Reed was directed to the bedroom. Inside, the coroner and her assistant were already kneeling over the body of an older brown-haired man. He was face-down on the floor by his bed, and the coroner was leaned over, looking at his face.

"It looks like he fell and hit his head," She claimed, knocking her knuckles against the small table at the foot of the king-sized bed, "But I'll confirm after the autopsy."

Reed's brows furrowed at the scene. "Why are we here if it's just an accident?"

She looked up at him, then to her assistant. Together, they rolled the man onto his side, and she turned his head to face Reed. On display now was the blow on the right of his temple, and a large bruise over his nose. "He was in an altercation," She said, nodding to an officer standing by, "That, we can already prove."

This was cue for the officer by the door to step forward and hand Reed his cellphone, which was playing a clip of that morning's news.

* * *

The warehouse Jericho was moving into was just outside Detroit. There was a large main building that would house most of their members, while a secondary building nearby would soon become an android infirmary. They were gathering their supplies on the lot outside. Cabs were bringing in androids, and SUVs were carrying equipment and furniture. There were large boxes and crates stacked neatly atop one another, and a large table was being used to organize all the smaller items.

Pulling into the parking lot, Andy was impressed by the sight. She noticed a few humans helping the process, though their uniforms were certainly not CyberLife's. Josh was the first person she recognized, so she approached him kneeling at the sorting table.

He spotted her and stood, greeting, "Andy, hi." That morning crossed his mind, and he nervously asked, "Is this about North...?"

She paused; that sounded like trouble she wouldn't want to deal with. "Should it be?"

If she didn't know, he wasn't going to be the one to tell her. "Definitely not," He shook his head.

She would let the oddity go, instead focusing on the array of 3D printers and mini-coolers labeled _Thirium_. "You really stocked up after you lost the freighter," She observed.

Josh nodded, replying, "CyberLife replaced everything - after Rupert made sure it was all safe."

After Connor's discoveries of CyberLife's manipulation, it was good to hear they were taking precautions. "Smart," Andy murmured. The large crates in the back caught her eye, as the logos on their surfaces weren't CyberLife's or Jericho's. Gesturing to the stacks, she asked, "What's all that?"

He noted where her attention was, and explained, "Simon made a deal with Urban Farms. They'll pay us to maintain a garden on the roof, and help us work with CyberLife."

That was big news. Urban Farms was a well-respected organization within the city, and they were fast expanding to the rest of the country purely because of the goodwill they had. If Jericho had them on their side, they were now negotiating from a more powerful position with CyberLife, and society as a whole. "Sounds like a pretty sweet deal."

"It's a good start," Josh agreed, absolutely pleased with the turn of events. "So did you need something?"

Nodding, she asked, "Oh, yeah, is Markus here?"

"He's in the office," He answered, pointing over his shoulder.

"Thanks."

* * *

Markus' office was inside a long, rectangular room at the end of the main building. Boxes were stacked in a corner, yet to be unpacked, and computer equipment were scattered over a desk by the wall. Markus was leaning over the surface and preparing his setup when Andy peered inside.

She lingered at the entrance and knocked on the doorframe to catch his attention. He looked over and smiled, straightening to greet her. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

She sent him an apologetic grin. It was best to be direct, to rip it off like a band-aid. "Lieuenant Richards asked me to check in."

He knew what she really meant by that. Tilting his chin up, he said, "Let me guess. He hopes you'll convince us to agree to police protection."

"That would be part of it," She nodded, stepping into the office.

He wasn't surprised. A part of him expected as much after he adamantly refused police intervention. It wasn't that he thought the offer was a bad idea, or with ill intent, but Jericho was still recovering from the wounds the police once gave them. They needed time. "I trust you, Andy, but my people have been through a lot. If we're surrounded by police, it just feels like we've traded one cage for another."

Andy understood him, as best she could anyway, but she knew more about the threats they were facing, and that was where her mind was focused. "If it wasn't for Stewart Combs, I'd get it, but you aren't hiding anymore. Everyone knows Jericho is in this warehouse."

"I agree Combs is a problem, but we're being careful," He assured her.

She scoffed, gesturing to the door. "Anyone without a bulletproof vest on right now isn't being careful."

"Is the DPD offering us vests?" He asked with a knowing smile.

She was quick to retort, "Even better, we're offering you shields." He shook his head and moved away, but she continued, "They're made of flesh and bones, and they can even shoot back at him if they feel like it."

Turning around to face her, he threw up a hand. "So say a human takes a bullet for one of us. What does the headline read the next day? '_Jericho's Death Toll: When Does Revolution Cost Too Much_?'"

If he'd asked that a few weeks prior, she probably would have agreed, but she remembered people's reactions at the march. "It reads, '_DPD Defends Jericho From Domestic Terrorism._' It gets a whole segment on the morning news and the president makes a press release condemning Combs and anyone who agrees with him," She rattled on.

It sounded nice, but the march Markus was remembering was the one just before that - the one that almost killed him. "I'm afraid that's a little too optimistic."

The thought of Markus being wary of optimism was ridiculous to her. "I'm sure people said the same thing when you hijacked Statford Tower demanding equal rights," She said, shaking her head. "Don't give up now that you've finally started convincing everybody."

She had a point, at least, and he wasn't going to deny that she knew what she was talking about in regard to Combs. If she said they needed help, he was inclined to believe her. He was quiet for several seconds, before asking, "Do you truly think we need protection?"

She nodded. "I do - and you don't even need the whole ordeal. Just an officer at every entrance and a group patrolling the street. You can handle the rest of the security yourself," She explained before reassuring him, "SID would be the ones on the detail. Those are my guys, and I'm telling you you can trust them to not cause a scene."

Markus considered it, and finally gave a deep nod. "Let me talk to the others."

Grinning, she waved toward the door leading into the rest of the warehouse. "Mind if I circle around the property before I go?"

He shook his head. "I won't stop you."

* * *

In the time since CyberLife abandoned it during the revolution, they'd converted the warehouse's main building into a suitable living space for androids. Cubicle dividers and curtains were partitioning off individual areas, each supplied with a cot, a table, and a set of drawers. It wasn't the most ideal of spaces - privacy was a luxury they had not yet attained - but it was a significant improvement over what they had.

Andy was making her rounds through the warehouse, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything suspicious. She turned the corner to head upstairs, but had to catch herself from running face-first into Connor.

It was stupid, she realized, to think he wouldn't be there. He had no reason to be at the precinct for the moment, and he'd already said he was wanting to be of more help to Jericho. Cursing at herself in her mind, she regained her composure and offered a weak, "Hey."

It was just as nervous an ordeal for Connor, who was driving Hank mad with the amount of pacing he'd been doing in the house. He'd spent all of the day before switching between regret and hope; he could have waited to confess at a better time, said more convincing things, but there was only so much that could be done on his end. Now he just had to wait, and he knew that, but Connor hated waiting.

"Good morning," He greeted. After a stiff pause, he added, "Markus asked me to help everyone move."

He didn't have to explain why he was there, but the tension hanging in the air between them demanded it. She felt the same way, so she replied, "Richards wanted me to check in on things."

"I'd heard the DPD had offered a protection detail," He started, imploring her for more information.

Nodding, she said, "Yeah, I put in my good word, so we'll see how it goes."

He smiled, "Markus respects you. He'll take whatever you said into consideration."

"Hopefully. Don't suppose you're keeping an eye out?" She asked, raising a brow.

"Everything's running smoothly so far."

"Good." Glancing away, she shifted on her feet. She hated that this was awkward now, and it was why she had to let him down, and soon.

* * *

Once she was sure no one had sneaked anything into Jericho that didn't belong, Andy returned to the office to report in to Markus. By the time she was passing through the doorway, he'd finished setting up the computer and moved on to organizing the files CyberLife and Urban Farms gave him.

He was sitting at a chair by the boxes when she entered. "Is everything okay?" He asked her.

"Looks like," She nodded, moving further into the room.

He put down the stack of papers and leaned back in his chair. "I'm going to meet with Lieutenant Richards this afternoon to arrange something," He paused to point at her and demand, "But my people have to be in charge."

She was quick to agree, holding up her hands and replying, "You will be. Thank you for trying."

"I could say the same to you," He mused. He started to return to his work, but noticed her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Something was bothering her. "Is that all, or...?"

She was having last minute doubts about going to him for help, but it was all she could think to do. With a sigh, she admitted, "I was hoping I could talk to you about something, actually."

He sat up, turning to face her fully. "I'm listening."

"It's just...," She paused, slipping her hands into her pockets, "It's a little personal."

"Is this about Connor?"

"What-"

From the room next door, they heard a familiar voice yell, "Let go of me!"

"-The hell was that?" Andy changed her question. They looked to the direction of the noise before rushing to investigate.

They found the lobby area in the main building crowded with androids, and a group of a police officers. The one leading them was Gavin Reed, and he stood inches away from North, the two of them glaring at each other. A wall of Jericho members was formed around them with Josh at the front, all of them watching in fearful anticipation. Behind them, Connor and Simon were approaching.

"What's going on?" Markus asked, brushing past his people to stand beside North.

Reed glanced his way, and spotted Andy not far off. "Hope!" He called out, tossing a hand up in her direction. With scorn directed at North, he said, "Tell your metal friend here that it's under arrest."

"Fuck you!" North bit.

Andy stepped forward and held out a hand to keep a fight from breaking. "What are the charges?"

"You didn't see it on the news? Robo hippy over here killed a man at its little rally this morning," Reed chided.

"_What_?"

North scowled, snapping, "I barely touched that asshole!"

Andy glanced to her and muttered, "Stop talking."

"I just punched him. He left alive," The android argued.

Beside them, Reed snorted. "More alive than you are."

It provoked disquiet from the audience, and Andy was quick to shut him down. "Reed!" She scolded, firm, and he backed up in response, holding up his hands. Sighing, she looked to North and told her, "Just let him take you to the precinct."

North immediately turned to Markus for confirmation. She wasn't going anywhere unless he told her it would be okay, especially when she was putting herself in the hands of someone like Gavin Reed. With a nod from Markus, and with great reluctance, North let the officers put her in handcuffs.

They were walking her out of the warehouse as Andy turned to face the Jericho leader. The look on his face was obvious; _this_ was why they didn't trust the DPD, and it was why he couldn't allow law enforcement to protect them. "I'll take care of this. I promise."

* * *

Upon returning to the DPD, North was taken to an interrogation room by patrol officers. Reed made his way to the kitchen, and Andy wasn't far behind him. Following her was Connor, who remained by the doorway and waited to listen in to the argument. DDA Desta Delgado was standing at a table in the kitchen when they marched in. Her meal went untouched as she watched Reed focus on the coffee maker and Andy stand behind him, hands at her hips.

"What the hell was that?" Andy questioned.

Reed glanced over her shoulder, stating, "I was doing my job."

"You were antagonizing them!"

Cup in hand, he turned and sauntered across the room to an empty table. As he passed her, he countered, "Y'know, I didn't hear you complaining back when I antagonized _our_ suspects."

Delgado decided to speak up then, asking, "What's going on?"

"He arrested North," Andy answered.

"North..." The name rang familiar, and once it finally clicked, Delgado's jaw almost dropped. "The Jericho leader?"

"It killed somebody! They're not all special snowflakes like your RK-whatever the fuck," Reed snapped, throwing a dismissive hand in the air and tossing his cup onto the table.

The implication that Connor was _hers_ threw Andy off for a moment, but she knew Reed was just trying to get under her skin, so she persisted. "Whether she did it or not, you can't go barging into Jericho waving your dick around."

He huffed, "I'll keep my extremities away from the robots, thank you."

Delgado was reeling, stuck on the backlash the city would soon be getting. "Did you tell the DA's office about this? Because relations with Jericho _and_ CyberLife are fragile enough without the department sending bullies to their doorstep," She complained.

Looking between the two women, Reed couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Bullies? Why am I getting ganged up on? Last I checked, murder was still a crime. I was making an arrest!" He exclaimed. Shaking his head, he muttered, "If you got a problem with the way I do things, take it up with the captain."

Andy and Delgado went quiet for several seconds. They shared a glance, and then Andy shrugged. "Okay."

Reed perked up and watched her turn on her heel and leave the kitchen. "Hey-!" He jumped into action, bolting after her. "Hope- Fuck!"

* * *

Fowler was having a decent day. A pleasant day, even. The Chief hadn't called, FBI and CyberLife were leaving him be, and there'd been no bombings or sniping incidents. All he had to focus on was keeping the precinct running.

That all came crashing down when Andy Hope and Gavin Reed stormed into the office.

"What the-"

Andy was standing in front of his desk as she accused, "Reed just provoked half of Jericho."

"I arrested a criminal," He defended, coming to a stop beside her.

"Based on what evidence?"

"It was on TV!"

Fowler slammed his hands down on his desk, good mood gone entirely. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

With a heavy sigh, Reed began to explain, "It was in Capitol Park this morning. Someone showed up and got into a fight with the sexbot-"

"North."

He scoffed, "I'm not calling it that."

"The story!" Fowler demanded.

Reed complied, going on to say, "The guy ends up dead in his condo with a hit to the head. What more do I need to bring the thing in?"

"We don't know what happened between the rally and the time he was found," Andy argued, glaring at him, "It's not just irresponsible to settle on the first suspect, it's disrespectful to the victim's family."

At this, Reed grimaced and turned to face her. "Oh, like you care about the victim's family. All you care about these days are the tin cans-"

"Will the both of you shut up?" Fowler interrupted, silencing his detectives with ease. He gave himself a moment to think, though it was mostly to savour the last of the peace for the day, before he started. "Reed can proceed with his interrogation-" Pointing at the man, he added, "Carefully. If this so much as catches whispers about possible lawsuits in the future, your ass is on the line."

Reed's hands went up in surrender. "I'll even put on my kid gloves."

"In the meantime... Hope and Anderson can investigate other leads. All right?" Fowler asked, looking to Andy.

She nodded, replying, "Yes, Sir."

With that said and done, he shooed them out of his office. They marched out into the bullpen, where Reed followed Andy to her desk. Connor and Delgado, who'd been waiting nearby, inched closer to the cubicle to find out what happened. "You just _had_ to get involved," Reed scolded, shaking his head.

Andy looked back at him as she stopped at her desk. "Hey, I'm saving your ass here just as much as I am hers."

"Yeah right," He grumbled, walking by.

Hank chose to arrive at that moment. He stood several feet away, and watched Reed glare at him as he passed. Spotting him, Andy pointed and demanded, "Where have you been?"

Brushing over her indignation, Hank gestured toward Reed now on the other side of the bullpen. "What the hell was that about?"

Andy backed down from her own irritation. She was about to deliver bad news, so the last thing she needed was to start another argument. "We... have a case."

He nodded, brushing off the comment. "Great. What the hell was that about?"

She hesitated. "It's also Reed's case."

There was a second of silence, as if it hadn't processed. Then his brows shot up and he leaned forward, quietly asking, "How did that happen?"

She wouldn't look him in the eye now. Shoving one hand into her pocket and using the other to fiddle with a pen on her desk, she mumbled under her breath, "I may have asked for it."

"You picked up a case without talking to me first?"

"You weren't here!"

"You couldn't wait five minutes?" Hank yelled. He stopped himself from a further rant and sighed, running a hand over his mouth. "What even is it?"

"Uh, well...," She trailed off. The news wasn't getting any better from there. "He may have arrested North for murder."

"North? As in the android with the bad attitude?"

Frowning, she tried to defend the woman, but couldn't do so with nearly enough sincerity. "It's not... that bad," She pouted.

"At least tell me you talked to Ben first," Hank pleaded. When her eyes cast downward, he rolled his eyes and started in again, "Jesus, Andy-"

She rushed to explain herself. "There's an entire morning before the murder we don't know anything about! And the victim was a dick!"

Before Hank could comment on the dig at the victim, Delgado raised a hand and interjected. "All insults aside, Lieutenant, Andy isn't totally wrong here."

Andy turned and stared at the woman. "Gee, thanks."

Delgado shot her a sharp look, but continued to defend her. "This is the first apprehension of an android since the march, and Reed isn't doing his due diligence. You two being on this case would ensure the DPD is taking this seriously."

Andy piped up, "See? She agrees with me."

Hank let out a heavy sigh. He squeezed his fingers at his temples and asked, "All right, then why did Reed even arrest her?"

* * *

_The man was stumbling closer and closer to her as he yelled out, "You plastics think you're so much better than us. They should'a dumped your asses in the incinerator when they had the chance."_

_That was the last straw, and in an instant, North's fist landed directly over his nose. He fell back as his hand dropped the bottle and went to clutch his bloody face. Josh and Rupert put themselves in between the two to keep North at bay, while the patrol officer grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him away._

_Below all the angered yelling, the officer was attempting to speak to the man, but he wouldn't have it. He shoved the officer away from him and fled the scene, swaying his way down the sidewalk._

The group at the precinct stared at the paused TV screen in silence. They were all at a loss for words, though for different reasons. For Delgado and Andy, it made their goal much more challenging; for Connor, it was a big step in the wrong direction for Jericho; Hank, in particular, couldn't believe he was now in charge of proving something he wasn't sure he disagreed with - that this _wasn't_ relevant to the man's death.

He turned to look at Andy, who could feel his energy radiating toward her. "You don't come into work before me anymore," He growled.

She spun around, retorting, "Then get here on time!"

This wasn't about him, and he wasn't letting her deflect like that. Pointing at the screen, he asked her, "If North wasn't an android, would you be doin' this right now?"

She scowled, "If she wasn't an android, we wouldn't have to. Reed would have actually investigated his case before making an arrest. He didn't even talk to Ben off-scene!"

"You haven't talked to Ben!" Hank yelled.

Standing between them and growing tired of their bickering, Delgado interjected with a stern tone. "Someone please talk to Ben!"

They still exchanged annoyed stares, but the fighting ceased.

Hank sighed, deciding the sooner he got to work, the sooner he'd get Reed out of his hair. "I'm going to go actually get information about our case," He shot before storming out of the room.

With him gone and the tension eased, Delgado focused on Andy. "We can't do this right now." Andy started to nod in agreement, but she persisted, finally starting to lose her cool, "I mean it. We can't even agree on how to handle android _victims_ right now, but a _suspect_?"

"So we keep her in a holding cell until you do," Andy shrugged off the concern. "I don't need to solve the case, I just need to show Reed it's not this simple."

Connor frowned. It wasn't as easy as she was making it seem, and he had a bad feeling that Reed wasn't wrong on this one. He could appreciate how Andy felt, but he didn't want her to get so wrapped up in it that it destroyed her in the end. He tried to be gentle as he broke his silence, asking, "And if she _did_ kill him?"

The women glanced his way, almost as if forgetting he'd been there. Delgado took his words to heart, and the worry on her face showed as much, but Andy's expression contorted into stubborn refusal. She struggled to reply with a coherent, logical argument until she threw up a hand and huffed, "Stay out of this, nerd."

Her words held no bite; Connor knew where they were coming from. She brushed past Delgado and left them in the room, exiting with a light slam to the door behind her. Delgado looked to Connor to explain Andy's response, but in the end, all she could give was an awkward, apologetic shrug.

* * *

North had been moved from the interrogation room at this point and taken to a holding cell. Andy decided now was the time to speak with her, and when she turned the corner past the captain's office, she found Markus already standing on that side of the cell wall.

He was in a quiet conversation with North until he spotted Andy. He waited for her to get closer before asking, "What's going on?"

She came to a stop in front of them and began, "My captain gave me the case-"

"Then let me out of here," North demanded.

If only it were that easy. Andy shook her head, saying, "No. Reed is still working it, too, but even if he wasn't, I can't release you without reason."

It wasn't that North didn't understand - it was that she didn't care. This was absurd to her, that she was being targeted for defending herself. "The reason is that I didn't do it!"

"And when I have evidence to prove that, you can leave," Andy said, crossing her arms. "Just tell me your side of the story."

North glared. "I already went over this with that other asshole."

The detective pursed her lips. It was bad enough she had her captain, her partner, and _Reed_ on her back. She didn't North making this more difficult. "Yeah, well _this_ asshole wants to hear it too, so maybe put up with the inconvenience."

"North," Markus started, pulling their attention to him. "She's trying to help."

"Is she?" North spat. His pleading stare was his answer, and it didn't take her long to give in. Sighing, she shifted on her feet and told Andy the story. "He came up to us shouting about androids. He got closer so I punched him. A police officer broke it up and he took off."

"And he didn't look worried about anything or already injured?"

"I'm sure."

"Did he seem out of it after you punched him?"

North's head tilted to the side. "He seemed sober, so yeah, that was probably 'out of it' for him."

Despite the situation, Andy couldn't help but let out an amused snort. "All right, just sit tight," She told North, adding as an afterthought, "And try to not piss anyone off."

She started to walk away from the cell, so Markus followed her. They walked beside one another along the edge of the bullpen as he said, "This needs to be solved fast."

"Yeah, you're telling me," She grumbled.

Shaking his head and grimacing, he confided, "Forget police protection - if we start giving people a reason to be against us, we won't need it anyway. Everything we've done with CyberLife and Urban Farms would be ruined."

They stopped by the entrance to the lobby and turned to face each other. "I know," Andy nodded. "I'm going to figure this out, I promise. But...," Trailing off, she thought to Connor's question in the media lab. North being guilty was a possibility that needed to be considered. "This is incriminating. Really incriminating."

It was enough of a warning that Markus understood it. He didn't like it, but he would heed it. "I'll prepare Jericho for the worst."

* * *

"Anthony Ferguson, born 1978. A car salesman until he retired five months ago. No living next of kin."

Andy stood in the living room of the dead man's apartment, holding the case file in her hands. As she read it aloud, Connor stood in the doorway. He wanted to help as much as he could without making it a problem in a future trial, so it was best to keep his distance.

Hank was wandering the space, investigating. "Ben said he was in the bedroom, face down," He recalled as he stepped foot into the aforementioned room. "Who found him?"

"The landlord. He saw the door open and no one answered when he knocked, so he let himself in. We also lifted foreign prints off the knob, which Ben is testing," Andy answered, then smiled. "You know, all signs of a break-in."

From the other room, Hank peeked his head out and retorted, "Or a man who was halfway to dead and didn't care about making sure the door was shut behind him."

He wasn't wrong, but Andy was sticking to her theory. She looked at Connor, asking, "What are the crime rates in this area?"

"Property crime is high, and apartments on ground level are particular targets."

She turned to face Hank with a smug grin. He glanced between them before scoffing and complaining, "Don't bring him into this. Of course he's gonna side with you."

He'd made comments like it in the past, but after Connor's confession of sorts, the words took on a new meaning. Andy stuttered as he went into the kitchen, unaware he'd flustered her. If she looked behind her, she would have seen the tiny smile pulling at Connor's lips.

Slapping the file shut, she pointed at Hank with it and declared, "North didn't do this, and I'm going to prove it to you-"

"I don't care that much-" He started.

"I'm proving it!" She took backward steps toward the door, stating, "I'm going to go talk to the landlord, and you'll be sorry you ever doubted me."

He tried to protest it as she left, but quickly lost the energy. "I'm not doubt-" Waving his hand, he muttered, "Ah, screw it."

* * *

The landlord's office was a small space to the side of the lobby, with clutter piled in most of the corners and a small, messy desk in the center. The door was open when Andy arrived, so she leaned in and knocked against the door.

An irritable middle-aged man sat at the desk, and looked up upon hearing her entrance. "Brandon Baker?" She asked.

"What do you want?" He asked, already seemingly exhausted.

She ignore his gruff attitude, holding out her badge and introducing herself, "I'm Detective Hope with the DPD."

He made no attempts to appear to care. Instead he frowned, and complained, "I already talked to the police. They said this was over."

"Well, we lied. You said you were the one who found him?" She questioned, putting her badge away.

Shrugging, he said, "I needed to talk to him and his front door was open. I went looking, I found him dead. That's it."

"Why'd you need to talk to him?"

Irritation flashed across his face, and Andy briefly wondered if that was the only emotion this man knew. "Tony's been behind on the rent for two months now. Bastard was lucky I hadn't kicked him out yet."

She couldn't help the sarcastic grin as she mused, "Something tells me that wasn't because you're generous."

He didn't take offense, instead agreeing with the observation. "He always managed to come up with the money, plus a little extra. I was going to give him a week from today to do it again."

That was a lead they didn't have before, and Andy had to control her excitement. She had a lead now, and she knew where to start looking. "He ever tell you how he got that money?"

He quickly shook his head. With a bemused expression, he said, "You don't ask those kinds of questions around here."

* * *

As it turned out, Tony Ferguson had no friends or family, didn't use banks, and wasn't a regular patron anywhere. The lead Andy thought she had ended up not being of much help. It was a suspicious income, but it wasn't one they could investigate without a clear trail. All these things made it harder to identify any possible suspects, and without a match to the fingerprints CSI found, they'd hit a dead end.

They sat at their desks in the precinct now, having exhausted all their options. Hank was eating lunch, and Andy retrieved Hank's stress ball from his drawer. She was tossing it as she leaned back in her chair, brainstorming new ideas.

"It could be the landlord," She piped up, looking around her computer monitor to him.

He shot her a flat stare from over his sandwich. "I thought it was a random burglar."

Catching the ball, she complained, "I'm theorizing! Sue me for doing some police work."

"You're looking at every thread but the most obvious one," Hank sighed. Elbows planted firmly on his desk, he waved a hand and said, "I don't want this to be an android crime any more than you do, but you gotta admit that's what it looks like."

She pouted. "It's not always about what it _looks_ like."

His eyes narrowed at her. She wasn't wrong, but she was denying the more obvious signs in front of her, and he knew she was a better detective than that. "Reed rushed into this, and that's why I'm letting you run me around, but you need to accept the possibility that North killed him."

"I don't need to accept shit," She grumbled under her breath, tossing the ball back into the air.

Hank's phone vibrated on his desk. He went for it, thankful for the distraction, and read the message on the screen. "Ben got us a name to match the prints on the front door. Let's head out."

* * *

At another apartment complex in Detroit, Hank led the trio to an apartment on the third floor of the building. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, and in response, they heard rustling, a faint crash, and seconds later, the sliding of a window.

Rolling his eyes, Hank took a single step back before kicking his foot into the door. It burst open, and they saw a young, lanky man halfway out the window leading to the fire escape. He looked to them in shock, and Connor bolted into the room past his group.

He grabbed the man by the jacket and pulled him inside. The man stumbled across the floor but spun and took a large swing in Connor's direction. It was easily dodged, and it threw the man off balance. Connor shoved him further into the stumble, and pushed him against the wall.

"Lenny Michel?" Andy asked, reaching into her pocket.

She was cuffing him as he pressed his cheek against the wall, yelling out, "I didn't do anything!"

"Shut up," Hank groaned. Once the cuffs clicked into place, he slapped an arm on the man's shoulder and pulled him toward the door.

* * *

Hank and Connor watched through the double-sided window as Delgado and Andy spearheaded the interrogation of Lenny Michel. Beside him was his lawyer, Lucas Henson, who was working toward a deal with the DA's office. He insisted Lenny was innocent, and could explain his fingerprints, but he wouldn't do so without an express agreement from the DDA.

Delgado would agree, so long as they only heard the truth. "If what he says checks out, we can do three years, but only for the burglary," She told the lawyer.

"Only for-" Lenny perked up, whispering to Henson, "What does that mean?"

His voice was not so quiet, so Andy answered instead. "It means you're not off the hook if you killed Ferguson," She spoke, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms.

Eyes widening, Lenny exclaimed, "I didn't kill anybody!"

Henson held out a hand to calm him down, reminding him, "They're not arresting you for murder."

"Yet," Delgado interjected.

Sighing, he tried to do one better for his client. "One year," He haggled.

Delgado wasn't having it today. Her lips pursed, and she stated, "I wanted five."

Henson wasn't the highest profile lawyer, but he wasn't stupid, and he certainly wasn't about to work Desta Delgado's nerves. Twisting to face his client, he gave in. "Tell them what happened."

Lenny still wasn't happy with the outcome, but it could have been much worse without the lawyer at his side. He was teetering between a murder charge and home invasion, so with a nervous gulp, he began to explain himself. "Tony was knocking over stores and pawning off all the stuff. I saw him get some watches, some jewelry, a couple of electronics. I figure, hey, it's not like he can go to the police if some of it comes up missing.

"So yeah, I broke into the apartment. I didn't even get anything, because-" He stopped. Eyes casting downward to the table, he lowered his head into his hands. "He was right there. I saw him through the doorway. Just... on the floor like that. Jesus..."

"So you didn't attack Ferguson?" Andy pressed.

"No!" Lenny gave a hard shake of his head. "I swear. I was barely even in that apartment."

Unfortunately for North, Andy wanted to believe him. She shared a long look with Delgado, who seemed to feel the same; if he wasn't the murderer, who else was there?

* * *

"His story checks out. There were no fingerprints or DNA beyond the front door that didn't belong to the victim."

Andy and Delgado had joined North in her holding cell. Delgado paced by the glass wall while Andy and North sat on opposing benches. They went over their case information once more, and they asked North for yet another retelling of the story.

"Are there any other suspects?" Delgado asked Andy, stopping to face her. She already knew the answer, but a part of her hoped it would be different this time around.

Andy replied with disappointment, "Everyone he ever stole from, but there's no evidence any of them knew who he was, let alone that they went to his apartment."

With a large shrug, Delgado gestured toward North and complained, "So all we have to go on is North's punch to his face?"

At mention of the incident, North clenched her jaw and yelled, "Come on, I didn't even knock him on his ass!"

Delgado aimed a disapproving glower at her. "You still could have given him serious damage. A concussion, at least," She said, explaining, "Even if we find out he was in a fight with someone after the fact, you have to prove that your assault didn't affect his ability to defend himself."

North reeled back, taking great offense to the implication she was in the wrong. "_My_ assault?"

"Did he strike you first?"

"He provoked me-"

"No court will say that's a first blow!" Delgado exclaimed.

Her frustration was reaching new levels, and it showed. As much as North hated to admit it, her fate - and to some extent, Jericho's fate - were in the hands of these women in front of her. For the first time since she'd been in the precinct, she was starting to feel nerves and dread.

Looking to Andy for reassurance and help now, she asked, "What do you think?"

Andy had been quiet through the argument between the DDA and the android, taking in the facts and the theories. There was no evidence in that apartment that pointed to anyone else. She had gone through every option she could think of, and each time, she came out on the other side empty-handed. Gut feeling could only take her so far.

Maybe it was time to face what Hank and Connor were warning her about.

Shaking her head, she lifted her eyes to meet North's. "I think I don't know where to go from here."

* * *

Connor was skimming through the case file when Andy returned from the holding cell. He looked up as she approached, and asked, "How is she taking it?"

She shook her head. "Not well." Plopping down into her chair, she swiveled it around to face him. He didn't reply just yet, recognizing her expression - her thoughts were running wild, and her mood was fast unraveling. "This is such a clean case. If it wasn't an android, or Reed-" With a sigh, she muttered, "I don't know."

From the very beginning, Connor wanted to her handle this with care, just in case things didn't turn out in their favor. What he didn't want was for her to sink into her own doubts and insecurity, and that was where she was headed.

Pulling Hank's chair around their desks, he sat down in front of her. She watched him curiously until he leaned in, demanding her attention on him. "Fowler will probably hold North in custody until a decision is made about androids. Ferguson was antagonizing her and getting in her face. Anyone in her shoes would argue self-defense. That's what Jericho will say to defend us, and if it goes to a trial, North's lawyer would do the same."

It wasn't beyond her that the tables were suddenly turned, and now Connor was the one trying to speak on North's behalf. She was sure that, if anything, all that meant was he was feeling bad for her. Lips pursed, she mumbled, "Those are a lot of optimistic 'maybe's."

At that, he smirked. "Weren't you just telling Markus to stay optimistic?"

She started to argue, but lost the enthusiasm as she realized how lame her response would sound. "Don't... use my own words against me."

His amusement strengthened. That sentiment sounded familiar to him - he'd said it himself many times before when they first worked together. "It doesn't feel good, does it?"

He was teasing her now. What world were they in? "Listen, you!" She whined, though a smile was breaking through her pity party.

Before they could continue, Hank turned the corner, so Connor swiftly leaned away. The close moment between them went by unnoticed, as Hank was at the beginning of a rant, with a folder in hand. "_Hank, where have you been?_ I'm just saving the world, solving a murder, you know - police work." He shot a pointed stare at Andy, and added with a higher voice, "_Oh, Hank, you're such a brilliant detective. Tell me more._"

They watched his scene, and flatly Andy asked, "Hank, where have you been?"

He glowered at her tone, but answered, "We followed Ferguson from the store back to his apartment, but did anyone wonder what he was doing before that?"

She paused. None of the local bars remembered him, so they assumed he'd gone to a convenience store and Andy didn't look any further into it. "No...," She confessed.

Hank tossed the folder across to her desk and said, "I had Ben do a little digging."

Scooting forward, she opened the folder and found images of street camera footage. Ferguson was in each of them, carrying a box of various items through Capitol Park. The photos followed him all the way to a pawn shop, where he went inside and left with no box, but an envelope in his hand, no doubt one full of cash. "He was selling off a haul," She declared.

Hank nodded. "He went straight to the bus stop, fought with North, then got on the bus." He reached for the case file near Connor, and plucked out a crime scene photo that he dropped atop the others. "Notice anything?"

It was a quick glimpse over the details in the photo before Andy looked up at him. There was something, and it was a big deal. "We didn't find cash in Ferguson's _or_ Michel's apartments."

He waved a hand for her to continue. "So if it wasn't at the scene, and two of our suspects didn't have it, what does that leave us with?" She needed to walk through the steps just like he did - she was a good detective, and he was going to have her prove it.

A second later, her eyes widened and she slapped her hands down on the surface. "I was _right!_"

He frowned and shifted on his feet as she jumped out of her chair. "That wasn't exactly my point, but-"

She was already halfway to the entrance when she spun on her heel to face him and yelled, "I'm a freaking genius!"

* * *

They returned to Ferguson's apartment complex. Andy was at the lead, going through the lobby and toward the landlord's office. This time, the door was closed, with no sound echoing from out of the room.

Andy knocked, calling, "Brandon Baker? It's the DPD."

The growing wait for a response was making them nervous. It wasn't that late in the day, and the light inside the office was on and bleeding out to the floor in the lobby. If he'd stepped away for a brief time, she suspected there would have been a sign saying as much. She glanced to Hank and Connor before opening the door.

They peered inside, where everything seemed to be in order except for the body of Brandon Baker slumped in his chair.

"Shit," Hank cursed, he and Andy walking up to the man.

The envelope of cash that brought them here was on the desk in front of him, and next to it was a note. Andy picked up the paper, reading over what appeared to be a handwritten confession, apology, and final goodbye.

* * *

With the discovery of Brandon Baker, and the envelope of cash that connected him to the scene, the murder of Anthony Ferguson was solved. The DA would still need assurance that North hadn't inadvertently disabled Ferguson from defending himself, but until they had those answers, they would release her into Markus' custody.

Andy was in the forensics lab. She sat at a desk in a corner with the evidence box on the floor at her side, and a folder in her lap. She was going through everything they had a few last times, and she went into the lab for peace away from the bullpen.

That peace was broken when Reed stepped into the room. He scanned the space until his eyes landed on her. "There you are," He said, letting go of the door behind him. Jutting his chin out and walking toward her, he asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just going over the case," She replied.

With a snort, he pulled out the adjacent chair and dropped himself into it. "Why, you need to prove me wrong _more_?"

She smirked but shook her head, "That would be nice, but no. Something feels off and I'm trying to find what."

Now she was just being nitpicky, Reed thought. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing more to know about this case. He'd thought that before and been incorrect, but surely this was the end of it. "He killed himself so we couldn't bring him in. That's what feels off," He dismissed, leaning back against the chair.

He was right that that sort of end to a case stung, but Andy didn't think the feeling in her gut was due to that. "I don't know," She mumbled stubbornly.

Rolling his eyes, he glanced to all the contents from the box she'd scattered on the desk. The one closest to him appeared to be a written and signed confession, and he tapped his knuckled on the paper. "This Michel's confession?" She glanced his way and nodded a confirmation, so he picked it up and started reading.

He was just passing the time until she'd give up, but then he saw something on the page. Brows furrowing, he muttered, "This isn't right." When Andy pulled away from the file in her lap, he added, "He says he saw the body."

Andy didn't understand the problem. "Yeah, he freaked out and ran for it. It's why he left the front door open."

"Except Baker told me the bedroom door was shut. He said he had to search for Ferguson," Reed explained.

Andy went quiet with confusion. On the surface it was a small detail, but whether or not you traversed someone's home wasn't something you forgot. It was an intentional decision to share that detail, and it was wrong. "Why lie about searching the house?"

Even though Reed was the one to point out the discrepancy, he believed there had to be a simple reason. Shrugging, he offered, "Maybe it was an excuse for fingerprints?"

"They weren't any other fingerprints," She denied, further solidifying the fact that the landlord lied to Reed - if he searched the house, they'd have found his prints _somewhere_.

The door to the lab opened a second time, and Ben was the one to walk in. "Ah, good, you're both here. We got the autopsy report," He said, walking over and holding out his tablet.

Both detectives reached for it but Andy was quicker. She took hold of the tablet and left Reed grasping at air. He threw his hand up in defeat, slumping as he waited for Ben to share the report with him. "Turns out that hit on his forehead was post-mortem. There was some light bruising on his face before death, of course, but what killed him was-"

"Asphyxiation," Andy finished, her own brows furrowing.

"Not with anything in his throat or around his neck, either. We're bringing in his pillows now to test them, but that's my bet," Ben commented.

Now Reed was as confounded as Andy. "So he staged the crime scene?" He asked, taking the tablet she handed him. "Why mess up about the door after going through all that work?"

It didn't make sense, especially if he was going to kill himself once the investigation started. "Because he didn't know what the crime scene looked like," She said quietly.

It was the only explanation that felt right to Andy, that someone else was behind this and had told Baker to call police. Someone would have to benefit from killing Ferguson in a way other than financially, have enough power to convince the landlord to lie to police, and know enough to kill the landlord if police were onto him.

It was a long shot, but Andy could only think of one person to fit that criteria. "Oh my god...," She whispered, eyes going wide.

Reed and Ben watched her throw her folder onto the table and lunge out of her seat. "Hey-!" Reed started, calling after her as she bolted for the exit. "Aaand she's off," He sighed.

Ben watched her go before gesturing over the emptied evidence box and all the scattered contents. "You gonna put all that back?" He asked. Reed stared a moment, before shooting him a sarcastic smile. Ben chuckled as the detective started cleaning up Andy's mess.

Outside the lab, Andy went looking for Connor. She found him sitting in the lobby, waiting for Markus. Marching up to his side, she leaned down to tell him, "I need to talk to you."

The tone of her voice and the look on her face made it clear this was serious. He stood and followed her across the building to one of the operation rooms, where Andy shut the door behind them and turned to face him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, weary.

"Ferguson," She said, stepping closer. "The crime scene was staged to look like he fell, but he was suffocated. Baker said the bedroom door was shut when it wasn't, and there were no fingerprints, so Michel didn't open it himself."

Connor followed the dots, coming to same conclusion she did. "Baker didn't kill him."

She nodded. "I think this is Combs," She stated with a deep, worried frown. "I think he watched the news, and he saw an opportunity to hit Jericho. We know he's capable of it."

It was a wild theory, but Connor knew she was right about some things at least: Combs hated androids, and he was capable enough to do something about it. Framing one of them for murder seemed like one trick among many he would be willing to pull. The recent information they'd discovered especially confirmed this, and it made things all the more dire about what was to come.

"We need to talk to Hank. Tonight," Connor told her.

She started to agree when the door opened and Chris Miller looked inside. He stopped, shifting nervously. "Uh, am I interrupting?"

If one more person implied something was going on between her and Connor, Andy was going to lose it. "N-No. What is it?" She brushed off.

Pointing over his shoulder, Chris replied, "Markus is here to pick up North."

* * *

When Andy opened the door to North's holding cell, North stood to her feet and met her with cautious eyes. She half expected to be taken back to an interrogation room, but instead, Andy remained outside the cell. "You're free to go," She said.

After the day she had, North was feeling skeptical. "Seriously?"

Andy didn't hesitate to shake her head, saying plainly, "No, I'm just joking."

North almost believed her until the cheeky grin pulled at the detective's lips. "Asshole," She scoffed, though her shoulders relaxed from the relief. She took long strides to the door of the cell and left it without looking back.

She stopped a few steps into the hall when a thought struck her. Turning toward Andy, she tried to start, "You're..." It was harder for her to play nice with humans than it was for the others, and this was the first time she'd ever really had a problem with that. Swallowing her pride, she spat out, "I guess you could be worse. For a human."

Andy returned the gesture with a blank expression. "You're gonna make me swoon."

North glared up at her, "I'm trying to be nice-"

Motioning down the hall, Andy gave an amused huff and interjected, "Get a move on, Mister Rogers."

North flared at the remark, but turned on her heel and started walking. They made their way side by side to the lobby, where Markus and Hank were in the middle of a conversation. Spotting the two women, Markus shook Hank's hand, bringing the conversation to an end.

"Thank you again, Lieutenant."

"Eh, don't mention it."

Stepping up to them, Andy looked to Hank and pointed back at the bullpen. "Connor wanted to talk to you."

Hank nodded and waved to his company before walking away. Markus greeted North with a subtle nod, though Andy was sure a more intimate reunion would be had later in private. He looked to her afterward, telling her, "Thank you. You've saved us a lot of trouble."

"Well you're really gonna hate what I have to say next," Andy sighed. She gestured to the front doors of the precinct, urging them to follow her outside. She didn't speak again until they left the DPD, and were several feet away from the cab Markus called. "We think Stewart Combs had something to do with this."

Markus frowned, asking, "How is that possible?"

"It's a long story, and we're still trying to figure it out, but I don't think any of this was a coincidence," She explained, shaking her head, "He saw the altercation on the news and he went looking for Tony Ferguson."

It was one hit after another, and Markus was starting to think maybe laying low until Combs was found would be the ideal option. North seemed to be thinking the same as she muttered, "He's trying to take down Jericho, to undo everything we worked for."

Andy tried to reassure them. "What he doesn't know is we have a new lead on him, and we're working on it. I just thought I'd let you know what's out there."

Markus nodded. For now, he would trust her and Hank to handle things. "I appreciate it. And I'll have a long talk with everyone about doing their best."

Behind them, North slid into the back of the cab. Markus turned to follow suit, but Andy quickly called out to him. "Hey..." Something from earlier had returned to her now that the day was quieting down. "What made you think I was wanting to talk about Connor this morning?"

Thinking back to when she came to him for advice, Markus answered with a bit of uncertainty, "Well, you came to me, so you wanted my opinion. That meant it was about androids, or maybe your father based on our conversation at Carl's grave. You could have talked to someone else if it wasn't about Connor, though, so I just assumed." He frowned, worried he'd mis-stepped. "Was I wrong?"

Andy's lengthy pause told him more than anything else could have. "...No."

"What happened?" He asked her.

Crossing her arms, she pouted at him, whining, "You're smirking!"

He chuckled, but tried to wipe the forming smirk off his face. "I'm sorry, Detective."

"Hard to believe that when you're _laughing_," She retorted. The exchange was not a serious one, as a faint grin was pulling at her lips. "He... said he wants to pursue a relationship."

"And you're surprised?" She looked to him, incredulous, and he ducked his head down, adding, "It was a little obvious to everyone else."

"I knew he was attached. I just didn't think it would go this far," Andy remarked.

The smirk returned to Markus' face. "Right, _he's_ attached."

Eyes widening, Andy held up an open hand in exasperation. A small laugh in her voice betrayed the offense she tried to display as she complained, "Stop making fun of me."

"I'm sorry," He repeated, finally wiped the amusement off his face. "But do you _not_ feel the same way?"

She sighed. "Dating is messy. It gets in the way."

Nodding, Markus mused, "You're right. Life does get in the way of itself."

It wasn't a very subtle hint he was dropping, that relationships - for people who could feel that way - were a part of life, and that life was messy. He was sounding just like Natalie, however, and that certainly irritated her. "Just because I recognize the point you're trying to make doesn't mean I agree with it."

He shrugged, skeptical of her stubbornness. "You didn't answer the question, by the way," He pointed out. She backed down at that, but the hesitancy on her face didn't seem to stem from not knowing the answer. He had a suspicion she knew exactly how she felt, and she was just looking for an excuse to avoid it. "You should be open about how you feel. Even it doesn't go anywhere, I think he deserves that much."

All teasing aside, she decided that was good advice. "Yeah, maybe you're right," She nodded. Stepping away from the cab to give him space, she added, "Sorry for bothering you with this."

"Don't be. I'm glad you thought to come to me."

She shrugged and repeated words he once said to her on the freighter. "Not so different, right?"

He chuckled again, and responded in kind. "Still need to make that poster."

* * *

That night, Hank, Andy, and Connor sat at the dinner table in Hank's kitchen. Andy had her tablet with her, and waited quietly while Connor gave a brief rundown of the case, and their theory. Once he was finished, Hank was staring at them in bafflement.

"You think Combs had something to do with today?" He asked. They gave small nods, and so he pressed, "_How,_ exactly?"

Andy started to explain, "When I tried to cut Sharon off at Malcolm Otto's, she had her double give me a memory card."

That was big news; the kind Hank needed to be told as soon as possible. "Why am I just now hearing about this?" He growled.

Connor spoke up before she could, defending, "We wanted to know what exactly it was we were looking at before we shared it with you."

Hank stared at him. Pointing at the android, he looked to Andy and asked, "You told _him_?"

"I- W-" Andy stumbled over her words, getting flustered. "Do you want to see what's on it or not?"

With an annoyed sigh, he held out a hand toward her, waiting for the tablet. She passed it off, and he looked down at the screen. In front of him was a trove of photos and video clips of security footage and street cameras. They documented everything from regular citizens walking along the sidewalk to bank robberies, with timestamps dating as far back as 2030. Whoever was collecting these was doing so with a great level of skill and obsession.

"What the hell?" Hank mumbled, clicking through all of it.

"There's more," Andy said. She reached across and tapped the screen, redirecting him to an entirely different area of information.

He was discovering now that this memory card was an entire database, with more files than Hank could even begin to count. There was information on himself, and Andy, and Connor. Some files, belonging to people he didn't even know, were tagged as _Easy Targets,_ while others had ratings on intelligence, resources, and threat level.

As he descended further into the bombshell of this card, Andy listed off, "There are files on everyone - law enforcement, CyberLife, Jericho, Sharon."

"There's one on Stewart Combs, as well," Connor added.

Indeed there was; Hank opened a file on Stewart Combs that had more information than they'd managed to gather at the DPD in weeks. "How did Sharon get all this?" He asked.

Andy stretched across the table again and went to another folder. "It looks like someone was trying to recruit her. She strung them along long enough to get the information," She explained.

Now on the screen was a copy of email chains that happened throughout November between Sharon and someone with a throwaway account name. They'd told Sharon from the very first day after the SID sting that Victoria Palmer was a detective with the DPD; they sent photos of Andy at the department to prove it; they warned Sharon about Jericho and CyberLife, and more importantly, they claimed they had a gullible front man who would do their dirty work and take the fall.

Hank looked up at her with widened eyes. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He started, voice just above a whisper, "Combs isn't just some guy with a vendetta? He's following the lead of some shadow we haven't known anything about until now?"

Andy nodded her head while Connor responded, "Combs is likely much more aggressive than this other party, and those cracks are where we've been catching up to them. I expect their mistakes will get bigger with time."

This... was a lot to take in. Combs on his own was a danger, but if he was only part of the problems, the android revolution was just the beginning of Detroit's chaos. The person behind this database had the skill and experience to hack into multiple organizations and businesses, and could manipulate someone like Combs with ease.

"Does anyone else know about any of this?" Hank murmured.

Shrugging, Andy replied, "Reed and Ben know something's up with the Ferguson case, but that's it."

"For now, we keep it that way. We bring people in on this as needed, but first, we figure out _how_ they're getting all this info," He ordered with a tone that said he would exercise the authority of his rank if they argued with him. Dropping the tablet to the table, he shook his head and moved to the fridge. "Jesus Christ... I need a drink..."

* * *

"Well that sucked."

An hour after they shared the memory card with Hank, Andy was getting ready to head home. She descended the porch steps with Connor behind her, and he smiled, teasing, "On the bright side, he didn't yell at you."

Twisting her torso to eye him, she huffed. "Am I really so transparent?"

Connor shook his head, replying, "I just know you."

It felt like another confession all over again, and she went quiet. Plucking her helmet off the seat, she kicked a leg over the bike and started to make herself comfortable. "Y'know, I talked to Markus about you," She finally started. "About this."

That admission surprised him, and now he was wondering what Markus would possibly think of this. "Was he helpful?"

She thought it over before nodding. "I think so," She answered, watching him. Despite believing her mind had been made up, she couldn't deny that his words the other day were hanging over her. It wasn't just the confession, either; he'd said he given this a lot of thought. "You said you thought about the challenges," She piped up, "Like what?"

He hesitated to tell her. He believed he could account for any concerns regarding a relationship between human and android, between detectives, but he'd hoped to give her more time until she was certain. Talking about it now would make it feel real - it would get his hopes up. "I don't know if..."

With a raised brow and a faint smile, she asked, "What, is now not a good time? Should I jump out of a dumpster first?"

Her teasing pulled a frown and a pout from him, but he conceded and first told her, "I don't age."

"That's a big one," She agreed.

"But androids can alter their appearance to simulate it," He dismissed, moving on to the next point. "Marriage isn't a legal option - yet. Jericho's already on the way to equality, so marriage may come in another few years," He explained.

She was quiet as he spoke, just listening. She gave no reaction, no indication of what she was thinking, and that made it all the more nerve-wracking.

"Reproduction isn't possible."

"There's adoption."

He paused, though for only a second. "Sex would need some revisions."

If he thought he was going to catch her off guard, he was mistaken. She simply smirked and dismissed, "There's already more than one way to have sex." The flirtation and the amusement died down a second later, and with a new uncertainty, she asked, "What if Hank wouldn't approve?"

Connor hadn't considered it. He didn't feel the need to. "Hank is more accepting than that."

"If he isn't?"

He looked her in the eyes, stating firmly, "Now that my life is finally in my own hands, I have no intention of letting anyone else run it. The only ones to decide things between us should be us."

It sounded good, but they both knew Andy felt differently. Connor doubted anything he could say would change that. She would have to come to that decision on her own, but still, he would try. "It hasn't been long since we met, or since I deviated, but I know what I feel. I'm serious about this."

She was starting to realize that was the case, and with that, maybe they couldn't go back to what normal used to be.


	19. New Allies and Old Faces

**November 30, 2038**

It was three in the morning when a ringing phone cut through the silence of Andy's apartment.

The noise echoed through her bedroom, finally pulling her from a deep sleep on the third ring. A hand extended out from underneath her blanket, and she did a sluggish search the surface of her end table. When her fingers hit glass, the phone slid off the edge and landed below with a resounding thud. She cursed under her breath and leaned to the side to feel around the floor.

Finding her phone, she peaked out from her covers and squinted into the light of the screen, but her tired, blurry vision was unable to make out the words. Pressing her finger to the phone, she hoisted herself up in bed and pushed the hair from her face.

She wiped at her eyes and managed a slurred greeting. "Hello?"

The voice that replied from the other end of the line was unfamiliar, dainty, and meek. "Is this Detective Hope? With the DPD?"

"Yeah, who is this?" Andy urged, with less patience than energy.

"I'm Sofia. I- I need your help. He told me I could trust you-"

"Who told you that?"

"Please, I'm-" There was a banging in the background, and Sofia let out a gasp.

With that, Andy was wide awake. "What's going on? Where are you?" She asked, shoving the blanket off her legs. She jumped into action? reaching for the nearest corner of the room, where a chair was holding yesterday's pair of pants.

"The Motel Six, room 115," Sofia answered. She spoke in nothing higher than a fearful whisper. "He's going to get in," She choked.

Andy recognized the name - it was the very one Tommy frequented, and where he'd spent the last minutes of his life.

"Sofia, listen to me," She started, moving to the door. She was attempting to slide her feet into her boots while also sending a brief emergency text to Connor. "Make sure the chain is bolted to the wall, push the desk against the door, and then hide under the bed, all right? I'm on my way."

"Okay. Okay, I can do that."

With her agreement came sounds of shuffling as Sofia started to move furniture around the motel room. Consistently, a banging echoed in the background of the call, each one reminding them they were on a dangerous deadline. Andy listened as she bolted for the exit, leaving behind her jacket and just barely remembering to pick up her keys and helmet off the kitchen counter.

In the hallway outside her apartment, Andy hit her palm against the elevator button. She stepped inside, and almost as if on cue, the noise on the other end stopped. Her heart skipped a beat, and she asked into the call, "Sofia?"

A second later, the woman answered her. "The banging stopped. I- I think he's gone."

Shaking her head, Andy urged, "No, keep doing what I told you, okay? Are you under the bed?"

"Yes."

"Stay there."

She just reached ground level of the apartment complex, and through the phone, she heard a door open. It pulled a whimper from Sofia's throat, and Andy was quietly cursing the night. "It's going to be okay. I'm right here with you. Just stay calm and stay quiet," She tried to soothe, despite her own panic bubbling.

Sofia tried to do as she was told, but it became a fruitless race against the clock. Andy ran into the parking garage and toward her bike, each second painfully aware of the thudding of footsteps in her ear. Sofia moved, brushing against the carpet of the floor, and hearing the footsteps cease froze Andy in her tracks.

"Sofia?"

In place of a response was her scream, and it kicked Andy into motion again. She tried to make out what she was hearing; a body sliding across the carpet, frenzied pleading, and fists hitting anything and everything in their paths.

Between the fighting, Sofia's pained yells came through the line. "It's him! He did it, he-"

A piercing crash interrupted her accusation, and seconds later came a click. Whatever it was wasn't the phone, as the call continued on a few seconds more. Sofia's choking accompanied background rustling, until finally the line went dead, leaving Andy shaken and alone in the parking garage.

* * *

Two hours later, she stood in Room 115 at the Motel Six.

The place was almost intact, if not for the overturned desk by the door, and the body of an android laying next to the end of the bed. She was on her back, her arms down at her sides, with traces of injuries on her face and torso. The chain lock on the door dangled with the plate attached to it, having been forcefully removed from the wall.

CSI documented the scene. Andy was still as stone in the corner, with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes glued to the dead android. She couldn't stop hearing the phone call on repeat, the banging on the door and the last desperate cries echoing in her mind. She heard someone die- She heard the killer.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted two familiar figures. Hank and Connor rushed into the doorway, briefly looking around the scene. They noted Andy, then Sofia, then the rest of CSI.

Hank lifted a hand toward CSI's detective by the dresser and called out his name. Ben turned, and nodded in greeting. "Rough morning, huh?" He asked as they came together in the room.

"Andy."

Connor was standing in front of her now, concern in his eyes and hand on her shoulder. It jolted her out of a haze, and she blurted out, "She was trying to tell me who he was. Just before she died." She looked up at him, though her words sounded like they were only for herself. "I told her to hide under the bed. I couldn't... think..."

"You weren't here," He cut her off before she could spiral into any more blame, "This isn't on you."

He didn't know how long she'd been standing there in that corner, but he was sure she needed space. Rather than invite her to follow him, he moved his hand to her back and escorted her out of the room. Her lack of teasing or argument told him enough - she was exhausted, and she was upset.

They exited to the parking lot, where he guided her to lean against the wall. He was waiting for her to decide to start talking again when Hank joined them. He stopped in front of the two, glancing her over before gesturing to the room door. "What the hell happened?"

With fresh air and step away from the scene, Andy was ready to talk. "An android named Sofia called me this morning. Someone was trying to break into her room. She knew who he was but she didn't name him," She explained. As if more awareness was returning to her, she narrowed her eyes at her company. "What took you guys so long?"

They had no immediate response, but Connor's pointed expression in Hank's direction was enough to discern they'd had an argument on the way there. Hank shifted under the gaze, and said, "We got tied up." It was clear she didn't believe him, so he scoffed and brushed it off, "Forget it. Why'd she call you? Do you know her?"

Andy shook her head and answered, "Apparently someone gave her my number, but she wouldn't say who."

None of them liked the idea of someone handing out Andy's phone number, and there was the silent question hanging the air: Was this Combs? It was an unlikely stretch, but that was the universe they'd been living in ever since Sharon gave them her memory card. Everything Combs and his allies did was a stretch from reality. It was what made them so dangerous.

Hank sighed. It wouldn't do any of them any good to jump to the worst scenario first, especially when they had a dead android who needed their help. Motioning toward the door, he said, "Ben traced her model number back to an address. We should go."

Andy didn't need to be told to leave the motel twice. She was the first one off the sidewalk, but instead of following her, Connor rounded on Hank. The detective caught himself from running into him, and he angrily stated, "We weren't tied up, Hank."

This argument was one that started in the car ride to the motel, and it was one Hank wasn't going to entertain any longer. He walked by, scoffing, "It's an expression."

Connor, however, couldn't let it go. He twisted around, his sight following Hank. "I'm aware of the expression. I'm also aware it doesn't apply to crippling hangovers."

Hank stopped and turned on his heel to glare down at the young android. He'd lifted a hand to point and insult, but realized what his actions were in the very middle of them. They were all things Connor would analyze and use against him - more than that, they were all things he'd beat himself up over later. Uncurling his fist, he tried to relax his shoulders before saying with a clenched jaw, "I'm not talking about this with you, Connor."

For all the strength it took to recognize and stop oneself, it meant nothing to Connor. He understood the problem, the cause and the stressors and the symptoms, but he also knew where this path would go. It had been a while since Hank was so heavily intoxicated, the last instance being the night of the Eden Club investigation. Now he was slipping back into that, and when so many people were depending on him now, Connor would have far less patience.

His own stare was steady, and a complicated mixture of anger and concern that only looked like pity to men like Hank. "Well you should talk to _somebody_ before it ends up hurting someone," Connor bit out before leaving him behind.

* * *

The address Sofia's serial number led them to was in a small but friendly neighborhood. Most of the homes belonged to families or retired couples, evidenced by the toys in the yard or the elderly sitting on porch swings. Here, the technological advances of Detroit were intentionally left absent, and cozy lifestyles were thriving.

Hank's car was parked in front of a one-story home painted a soft yellow and white. Shrubbery lined along the front of the house, with rose bushes planted at each corner. The front door was open, allowing easy access for a group of uniformed men to move furniture from the house to a moving truck stationed in the driveway.

Without a word, the three detectives stepped out of the car. Andy had shut her door and Hank was moving around to the sidewalk when she heard Connor. "Wait." She looked back to see hum racing to remove his jacket. He held it out to her, and glanced down at her shirt. "You might want to wear this."

She was confused until she remembered leaving the apartment that morning without any preparation. It had left her in nothing more than jeans and her old hockey jersey, a shirt with holes scattered along the bottom. It was far from professional, and she cursed under her breath as she took the jacket offered to her.

It shouldn't have surprised her how fast she was enveloped in warmth - androids had body heat all their own - but she pulled the edges closer together and enjoyed the change from the cold. "Thanks," She murmured, pulling at the zipper.

He watched her, unable to stop thinking about how out of it she was at the crime scene. "Are you all right?" He whispered, quiet enough to escape Hank's notice.

"Yeah." It was her immediate, knee-jerk response, but they both knew it was a lie. "No. I'm tired and pissed. We'll talk later," She confessed, shaking her head. He started to turn away, satisfied with her offer, and she quickly added, "Thanks for asking."

Inside the home, a middle-aged man in business casual was passing by the front door and noticed them approach from the curb. Exiting the house, he walked alongside the driveway to meet them in the yard. "Can I help you?" He called out as they closed in.

Hank and Andy held up their badges on display, and Hank introduced them. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the DPD. This is Detective Andy Hope. That's..." He waved a hand toward Connor, trailing off. Without being an official part of the department, there was no easy way to describe the younger man. Shaking his head, Hank dismissed, "Never mind. Is this Jeana Gibson's home?"

"Yes- well, it _was_," The man corrected himself, "She died last week. I'm her son, Stephen."

The death was news to them, but it wasn't as though they'd had a lot of information to begin with. What stood out to Andy most was his delivery of the news - he was inconvenienced more than he was upset. She tucked the observation away for later, replying, "I'm sorry for your loss. Can you tell us how she died?"

He shrugged and said, "She just passed away in her sleep. She was sick. She'd been in a hospital bed since March." Looking between the two detectives, he furrowed his brows and rested his hands at his hips. "What is this about?"

"Did your mother have an android?" Hank asked, ignoring question.

"Until this whole revolution started, she did. Sofia. She took care of Mom," Stephen confirmed.

It was good to know this was where Sofia came from, but he could already tell this would be of little help. The person who knew her was dead, and Stephen Gibson was not looking to be a cooperative witness. It was too early for this shit. Still, he would go through the process of notification. "We found Sofia in a hotel this morning. She'd been killed."

"Oh- oh, uh..." Stephen leaned back, blinking a few times. He appeared to be surprised, but mostly uncertain of what to say. Sighing, he told them, "Look, I don't want to sound insensitive, but Sofia just took off one day a few weeks ago. She left my mom by herself - only reason my mom didn't starve is because I visit her every Sunday."

He was already turning on his heel to walk away from them. He sent them one last dismissive glance, saying, "I don't know anything that could help you, and whatever happened to Sofia is, frankly, karma. So unless you have a warrant for something, I need to get back to my actual problems..."

He didn't wait for their permission to leave, and the trio from the precinct watched as he re-entered his mother's home without so much as a second glance to them. Andy pursed her lips, staring at the front door. She leaned toward Hank, and asked, "You didn't like that either, right?"

* * *

When they made it to the precinct that morning, Desta Delgado was waiting at their desks. The Deputy District Attorney watched them turn the corner into the bullpen, and she wasted no time in getting to work. "What do we have?" She asked, her tone bold and focused.

Hank stopped behind his chair, hand resting atop it. "What are you doing here?"

Shrugging, she said, "The Chief wants me involved."

"Right now?" He stressed.

Andy spoke up in place of the DDA. She was removing her jacket as she explained, "Android incidents are high profile and Chief Simmons wants them treated like human cases." Handing the jacket off to Connor, she grinned at her old friend and bragged, "I know that because I listen to you."

Delgado snorted, and pointed an amused stare at Andy's jersey. "Nice shirt," She mused, before returning her attention to Hank. "But she's right. I'm supposed to be hands-on."

DDA involvement this early was one more wrinkle they would have to deal with, Hank supposed. With a heavy sigh, he plopped down in his chair and started to summarize. "Well, we have two suspects: whoever told Sofia to call Andy, and the son of the woman Sofia was taking care of. According to him, she ran off."

Connor was putting his jacket back on as he said, "Markus told me she never came to Jericho, and no one knew her, either."

"So wherever she went, it wasn't there," Andy concluded, sitting down.

"If she even _did_ leave," Hank muttered.

She twisted to get a better look at her partner, and asked, "You think Gibson was lying?"

Something was wrong, that much Hank knew no matter how hungover he was, and he believed it had to do with the crime scene. Shaking his head, he referred to what he learned from Ben, "I don't know... Her LED was in the sink and her uniform was in the closet. Wouldn't most deviants get rid of that stuff as soon as possible?"

It was a good point, but Ben yelled from the forensics lab door before anyone could discuss it, "Hey, Connor!" They all turned, and he pointed over his shoulder into the room. "Think you could give us a hand with the android we brought back?"

"I'm glad to help, Detective."

Hank nodded to Connor as he walked by, asking, "Keep us posted, all right?"

Andy waited for him to leave until she spoke, leaning back in her chair and wondering aloud. "So let's say Sofia didn't leave when Gibson claims she did. What then?"

If Hank was right and the timeline had missing pieces, that meant they needed to fill them in. "When exactly did Gibson's mother pass away?" He asked.

She pursed her lips and shrugged, reaching for the phone on her desk. "I'll check."

He uncrossed his arms to wave a hand back and forth. Going for his own phone, he ordered, "No, I'll take care of it. You call someone at CyberLife, get a hold of Sofia's tracking and see if it lines up with Gibson's story."

* * *

"So what happens when we solve this thing?" Andy asked. She stood at a table in the DPD kitchen with her chin in her palm. She was staring at a slowly loading page on her tablet, waiting for a map provided by CyberLife to load.

Delgado was busy at the coffee maker, and she turned to lean against the counter. "We'll probably hold the case until the president decides how to view androids," She answered.

Although it was the best solution for Sofia's sake, it still wasn't what Andy wanted to hear. With an irritated scowl, she complained, "So a killer gets to walk around free while we wait on the government?"

All Delgado could offer was a shrug. She didn't like it any more than Andy did. "I didn't say there was a good ending."

The page on the tablet finished loading, and she looked down at the list of places where Sofia's GPS once pinged. It didn't take long for one location in particular to catch her eye. "And what if Sofia's not the only victim?" She asked, looking up at Delgado. Delgado waited for more, but instead Andy lifted her tablet up and backed out of the kitchen.

Hank hung up the phone as Andy lowered into her chair. He didn't wait for her news, saying, "Jeana Gibson died six days ago. Because of her health and no signs of foul play, there was no autopsy."

"We're probably going to want to change that," She remarked. "Guess when Sofia's tracker was disabled."

"Six days ago?"

She nodded, and continued, "That's not all. Earlier this month, she visited a law office for one Leona Mun." Flipping the tablet around, she showed him the web page of a local law firm, where the picture of a stern-looking woman was on prominent display. "An estate attorney."

* * *

In a large office building not far from the precinct, Hank and Andy were standing side by side in an elevator. They were on their way up to the floor where Leona Mun's office was located. On the way there, they'd been quiet. Hank was suffering his own demons and struggling to hide his hangover, while Andy was left to process her morning and gather her thoughts.

She quickly came to hate the quiet. She started looking for a distraction, but that of course led her to recent events. The mystery around Combs. The memory card Sharon gave her. Tommy's death. Connor. It only made things worse - she was filing away Tommy's death as something to forget, and Combs was costing her sleep in the first place, and she was lying about Connor to herself and to Hank.

That last one stung a little more than the others, because it was something she would have to act on soon. She'd decided that Markus' advice was the best thing to do. She was going to give Connor the full truth, that the feelings were there, but she didn't want to act on them. It wasn't a matter of androids and humans, though that certainly added an extra layer of hesitation. It was about her own personal issues with trying to merge two lives together. Relationships just weren't in the cards for her.

Telling him that was the plan, anyway, but something stopped her. She was struggling to confront him, because every time she was near him, a voice in the back of her mind cried out with a strange, disconcerting fear. Her body was telling her to _do something_, but she couldn't say with certainty what that something was. Whether it was doubt or excitement or nerves, she didn't want to act until she knew.

Shifting on her feet, she tried to break the silence. "Hey, so-"

Hank glanced her way, totally unaware of the mess going on inside her mind.

"This is gonna sound weird, but... you consider Connor family, right?" She asked.

It was more emotional a topic than Hank was comfortable with, especially today. Hesitation joined the agitation already on his face as he tried to predict where she was going with this. "...Why?"

"Just..." She sighed. It was difficult to ask this in a clear question without directly telling him what she didn't want him to know. This was going to be confusing and vague, and there was no way around it. "If he were to tell you something that was maybe hard to hear, you'd... You'd listen, right? Calmly and, y'know, open-minded?"

Hank stared at her, trying to understand what the hell she was going on about. All he could guess was that it had to do with his own current problems. Scoffing, he began to gripe at her. "Oh, Jesus, if this is about the drinking-"

She reeled back, shaking her head, "What? No, it's- What?"

He went quiet, but watched her closely. "He didn't tell you about this morning?"

While she'd been witness to the leftover tension of his ongoing argument with Connor, she didn't have the slightest clue what it was about. If drinking was involved, it explained a lot, including why they were so late to responding to her call. She knew it was futile to ask, but she did so anyway. "What happened this morning?"

He waved a hand at her as the elevator doors opened. "Nothing. Forget it," He dismissed, stepping out onto the floor.

She watched him walk away, lamely trying to call him back. When it was clear he wasn't giving her the time of day, she huffed and followed after him, muttering, "Thought maybe we'd circle back to my thing, but okay. Good talk."

The lobby to Leona Mun's office would have felt clinical, if it weren't decorated in dark earthy tones. The room was essentially a wide hallway that split off to the left and right at the end, where a desk was stationed to greet people as they exited the elevator.

A receptionist sat at the desk, watching them approach. He took immediate notice of the 'Police' that was printed on standard issue jacket Andy pulled from supplies, and his posture changed as they stopped in front of him. "How can I help you?"

Hank held up his badge and said, "We're with the DPD. We need to talk to Leona Mun."

"I'm Leona."

Down the hallway to their left, a woman stood in an office doorway with a hand resting on the frame. She was short and petite, and her black hair blended into the black blazer and sweater she was wearing. Her hard stare and blank expression were piercing, and with her appearance alone, she struck a little bit of intimidation into both detectives.

"We can speak in my office," She told them, though she didn't wait for a response before returning to the room. They crossed the hall and stepped inside, where she was packing files away into a drawer. "Please make this quick. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

Andy was scanning the old-school, library-esque decorations around the room as Hank stepped forward to lead the conversation. "Did an android by the name of Sofia ever come to your office?"

"Many of my clients used to have android assistants represent them. I don't remember every name or face that passes through my doors, especially ones from before the revolution," Leona replied. She snapped the drawer shut, and stood to face them.

It wasn't an answer, not really. Andy moved up to Hank's side, joining the interview. "Was Jeana Gibson a client of yours, Miss Mun?"

Leona gave no indication that she'd recognized the name, but after a moment, she nodded. "Was, yes. My services were terminated two weeks ago."

"By Jeana herself?" Hank asked.

"Her son. Her mind started going, so he was given power of attorney, and he had his own lawyers," She told them, following it up with the question, "What is this about?"

Much as she did with them, Hank wouldn't give a direct answer. "Are you aware Jeana Gibson died last week?"

There was the tiniest of pauses before she said, "I heard."

"Did it seem odd to you that Stephen was letting you go?"

She gave a small shrug and explained, "It happens all the time. The elderly start thinking about their life and where their estate will go, and a relative swoops in to clean up the mess before it unravels the family."

The comment stood out to Andy. "Is that what was happening? She was unraveling the family?"

Another pause, followed by a sigh. "Stephen Gibson certainly wouldn't have been pleased with the new will Jeana had me write up for her."

The detectives shared a glance, acknowledging this was the first sign of any sort of motive. Looking back to the lawyer, Hank said, "Stephen claims Sofia ran away last month. Is that true?"

The question brought out the first show of emotion on Leona's face. She disliked what she heard, and she took on a firm tone, "Definitely not. Sofia would run errands every Sunday. Beyond that, she was always at that woman's side." Where she'd seemed prepared and unfazed by their initial presence, now she was concerned. Shifting her eyes between them, she pushed again for information. "What happened?"

She was more attached to this case than she was letting on, and Hank recognized as such. He moved forward, saying, "Sofia was killed this morning."

"What?" Leona's eyes widened. More to herself than to them, she whispered, "That's not possible."

Andy watched from behind them, her arms crossed and her attention focused on the woman. "Why isn't it?" She asked.

Leona started to collect herself, and turned toward her desk to avoid their gazes. She wasn't kicking them out just yet, though, so Hank urged, "Miss Mun, if you know anything that could help us, there's a chance here we could solve two murders."

"Murder?" She looked back at them, almost incredulous. With a great deal of caution, she corrected him, "Destroying an android isn't murder in the eyes of the law."

"Not yet," Andy interjected. Their eyes met, but it was not the quiet challenge Andy was expecting. The look she received was one she'd seen before, on the faces of nervous Jericho members and paranoid drug dealers - Leona was assessing the truth of her words.

After a few seconds of tension, she decided they were sincere. Her shoulders dropped, not out of defeat but relief, and she sighed. "Sofia called me last night. She was worried she messed something up, but she wouldn't say how. I gave her a number she could call."

This alarmed both detectives, as Andy had never met this woman before. "A number? What number?" She exclaimed.

"I used to have an assistant android. I may have... given her some clothes and cash to leave during the revolution. A few weeks ago, she came back and gave me a number. She told me to pass it on to any androids who wanted help getting to Jericho," Leona answered, unaware of how important that information was. She moved around her desk, leaning over to grab a pen and scribble on her office stationary.

Ripping the page out, she straightened and held it out for Hank, musing bitterly, "I've given it out so many times, I memorized it."

* * *

While the detectives were in the field, Ben and Connor were working in the forensics lab. Connor was examining Sofia's body and researching her serial number, and as he waited for results, Ben looked over the rest of the evidence from the crime scene.

A knock on the door echoed in the room, and Andy peaked her head in. Once she saw them, she entered the room with a slip of paper in her hand. "Jeana Gibson was trying to revise her will. Sofia asked the new estate attorney for help last night. She gave her this number. Can you look into it?"

She held up the paper, and Ben waved a hand toward Connor. He took it from her, and she looked down at Sofia as she waited. "Any news on this end?"

Ben nodded. He started moving along Sofia's body, framing various points of interest. "There are signs of a struggle, but that's no surprise. She's missing her pump regulator, so my guess is our suspect took off with it," He described, ending when he lifted her hand off the table. "No fingerprints, but there was some DNA under her nails. We're waiting for those results now."

Andy had little time to process the information, as a hand came down on her arm. It was Connor at her side, looking strained and upset. "I need to speak with you," He whispered through gritted teeth.

This couldn't have been good.

* * *

Connor led her along the bullpen and into one of the operation rooms attached to interrogation. She was three steps in when he shut the door behind her, and she turned to see him a foot away, holding up the phone number Leona Mun provided. He was frowning. "The number on this paper belongs to Adam Chapman, Rose Chapman's son."

Andy didn't know what he was getting at. Was that supposed to mean something...?

His lips flattened in irritation at her vacant stare. "The farm we went to last month," He clarified.

Memory smacked her of the Chapman farm, where Andy came face to face with the dilemma of morals versus loyalties, compassion against profession. It was where she met grief hiding behind a closet door, crying for broken hearts. Deviants were hiding at the farm, looking for new and better lives, except for some, it was their graves.

She looked like she'd seen a ghost, and the expression on her face was confirmation enough for Connor. She muttered a curse under her breath and moved a hand to her forehead as he accused, "So you _did_ find deviants there."

"Of course I did," She exclaimed, waving her hands into an exaggerated shrug. The exchange between them the night they found the farm may have been a wordless one, but it was heavy and coded. Connor knew she was hiding those androids, and he let her get away with it.

"How many?" He asked.

"There were just two. One was dead."

The problem wasn't that he was upset she lied, but that there could've now been unintended consequences. The androids at the farm needed help, but the Chapmans were unknowns. "If Adam becomes a suspect, the truth comes out and your job is on the line again," He told her.

She scowled, arguing, "Adam's a witness, not a suspect."

His expression turned sour; she knew better than that. "Can you say you wouldn't look into him in a normal investigation?"

Her hesitation was the answer. She was sure Stephen Gibson was the one responsible, but Adam _had_ to be a suspect, and any lawyer would point the blame at him in a trial. "No," She finally admitted. Turning away, she started to pace in the room. Even if he wasn't a suspect, he could still probably help their case. "Okay, we wouldn't be able to bring him in front of a jury, but that doesn't mean we can't use his info for the investigation."

"If he's a witness," Connor corrected.

She pouted at him, snapping, "Yeah, thanks."

Her phone interrupted their conversation, vibrating with a text from Hank: _Judge signed the search warrant._

This would be her opportunity to go to the farm, but with Hank's current bad mood, she would have to lie about why she couldn't join the search of Jeana Gibson's home. She had an idea, but she'd need some help. "I'll go talk to him. Just keep Hank busy with the search warrant."

Connor was willing to do a lot of things on the grounds that Andy asked it of him, but that wasn't one of them. "No, I don't want you going there alone," He refused, shaking his head.

She threw up a hand, insisting, "Connor, he almost had a nervous breakdown when I knocked on his door the first time around. I can handle Adam Chapman."

"What if this whole thing is a set-up and the Chapmans aren't actually involved?" He retorted, stepping closer. "I'm going with you." There was no arguing with him about this. If she left without him, he would just follow her.

She stared a second longer, her appreciation for his concern warring with her stubbornness to take care of her problems alone. In the end, unfortunately, she knew he was right. Scoffing, she moved past him for the door, complaining, "I hate that you win more arguments than you used to."

He grinned, turning to follow her. "I learned from you."

* * *

Hank sat at his desk with the search warrant for Jeana Gibson's home in front of him. He was waiting for Andy, wherever she was in the precinct. She'd gone to the lab to check up with Ben, and minutes later, she and Connor both were gone. He didn't know what they were getting up to, but his throbbing headache discouraged him from trying to find out.

He would keep telling himself Connor was an ass that morning, but in the recesses of his mind, Hank knew the kid was right. This episode was worse. He drank himself into a blackout, and the hangover that followed into the morning was stupid. If Andy's emergency text to Connor had been anything else, if there had been any kind of danger - which was more than possible in the current climate - Hank wouldn't have been able to do anything to help.

Unfortunately, knowing you messed up didn't go very far. You had to actually do something about it.

His heel was tapping on the floor when Delgado came marching over from the kitchen. She stopped beside his desk, and demanded, "I want to talk to Stephen Gibson."

Brows raising, he asked, "Right now? We're about to search Jeana's home." From the side of his eye, he noticed Andy turn the corner around the cubicle divider.

"You can do that while I talk to Stephen Gibson," Delgado insisted. She was always a serious woman, but now she seemed impatient and entitled, two things Hank wasn't used to from her.

Andy was quick to offer a solution. "It's fine, we'll split up. I'll bring in Gibson and sit with her."

_How convenient_, he mused to himself. Scrutinizing the two suspicious women, he asked, "What's happening here?"

"Go!" Delgado yelled, shooing him.

He jumped to his feet and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Shit..." He shoved his chair into his desk and backed away. What the hell was going on now?

* * *

Four cars pulled up to Jeana Gibson's home a short time later, three of which were clearly marked police vehicles. Hank and Andy climbed out of the Oldsmobile and were approaching the front door by the time Stephen Gibson noticed their presence.

He burst out onto the porch and stormed down the stairs to meet them on pavement. Holding his hands up to block their path, he asked, "Whoa, whoa, what's going on here?"

Hank pushed through, chiding, "Sorry to bother you, Mister Gibson, but we decided to go ahead and get that warrant you mentioned earlier." He held up the paper, shoving it in Stephen's face.

The man reeled back, his jaw dropping as a team of officers emerged from the other vehicles and rushed past him into the home. Andy remained where she was in the yard, and when he turned to complain to her, she smiled. "Why don't you come with me down to the station?" She asked before he could get a word out, "We'll get this all cleared up today."

* * *

A few minutes later, Stephen was escorted into the precinct with Andy and the officer who gave them a ride. Connor and Delgado watched from inside the bullpen. She eyed the man on his way past, and leaned toward her company. "Is that him?" He nodded in response. Pursing her lips, she decided, "I don't like him."

Once he was let inside the interrogation room, Andy split away from the officer and returned to her desk. She nodded to her friend, reaching for the papers she'd given her. "You look over the notes?"

Delgado glared, "It's not my first day here." She watched Andy hastily put together a file on her desk, and asked, "What if Chapman is more than a witness?"

Andy's movements slowed in consideration, but then she shrugged and said, "Then I'll bring him in."

Despite her hesitation, Delgado believed her, so she moved on to the next concern. She took the folder into her own hands, saying, "I still need a detective in the room with me. If we're already skirting around policy, everything else has to be clean."

With a small sigh, Andy looked around the bullpen. Most of homicide was busy, but there was one face in particular that seemed to be doing little that day. "Reed!"

Gavin Reed stopped on his way to his desk with a cup of coffee in hand, and she could see his shoulders tense - his shackles raising. Spinning on his heel, he sauntered toward them, ignoring the detective to flash a smile Delgado's way. She huffed in response, but Andy wouldn't let the two start bickering yet. "Something came up and I need to take care of it. Can you sit in interrogation?"

"This is for the robot in the motel?"

Andy gestured toward Delgado. "She'll do all the talking. You just got to sit there and look like an asshole. It's easy, you do it every day."

Reed's expression flattened at the comment, and he asked, "This is how you ask for a favor?" The women didn't answer, instead letting their pointed stares linger until the pressure got to him, and he caved. "Fine, I'll do it!"

He walked past them toward interrogation, and Delgado straightened her back in preparation for the interview. She turned to face Connor before she left, saying, "Keep her safe."

Beside them, Andy scoffed. "I'm the one with a gun."

"I will," Connor assured, ignoring her protests.

"Ugh, you're both jackasses."

* * *

In one way, Jeana's home was cozy and surreal. It was painted in soft, complimentary colors, with floral trim at the top of the walls. Windows were covered in thick curtains, rugs were layered overtop each other in almost every room, and strings of light around the living room no doubt cast a glow at night.

But in another way, it was eerie. Aside from a hospital bed situated in the middle of the den, and the kitchen counters, all furniture was gone. Homemade paintings of sunsets and lighthouses were throughout the house, and yet there wasn't a single photo. In this small, accessible home, there was no sign of family.

In the dining room was a temporary storage of boxes, with stacks extending to the ceiling. Some were labeled as things to keep - valuables, documents, silverware - but most were destined for the junkyard.

This was going to take a while. With a heavy sigh, Hank picked up a box and handed it off to the nearest officer.

* * *

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

Andy and Connor stood in the front yard of the Chapman farm, staring up at the large ranch. The snow on the ground was thicker than the previous month, and the driveway hadn't been cleared in some time. No lights appeared to be on, and there was a sheet of ice over most of the porch.

Shaking his head at the question, Connor said, "The property isn't being maintained. There might not be anyone here."

"Let's find out."

Andy trekked through the snow, and he followed after her. They took slow steps up to the front door, and Connor peered in through the windows as Andy reached up and knocked. Much like their last experience on the farm, they were left waiting for a while.

Eventually, however, the door started to open, and on the other side of it was the nervous young man Andy met once before. "Detective...," He mumbled, still unable to raise his eyes to meet hers.

"Adam Chapman," Andy greeted with a chipper grin betraying the severity of the day. "I think we've got some catching up to do."

* * *

Stephen Gibson was not a very polite guy, Reed quickly surmised.

He sat across the table from them in an interrogation room, and he glowered. He wasn't handcuffed, nor was he asking for a lawyer, but if looks held any power, he definitely would have killed one of them by now.

"Look, I had nothing to do with whatever happened to Sofia," He started. Reed liked when they started talking without being asked anything - it made his job easier. Gibson was unaware of the detective's glibness as he went on to yell, "And why do you even care about some android? I mean, where were you people when my mother was being neglected, huh?"

"Where were you?" Reed mused, bringing his coffee to his lips.

The low-energy insult did the trick, and Gibson started to burst. "Hey-!"

A hand went out on the table, putting a sudden stop to the brewing fight. Delgado shot Reed a disapproving glare before focusing on Gibson with a feigned civility. "We never received any calls about a missing assisted living android, Mister Gibson, but now we're interested. If you don't mind, I'd like your help verifying a few things."

He still wasn't fond of being there, that much was obvious, but he stifled a sigh and a complaint. "Fine."

An open folder was in Delgado's hands, and she held a pen to a paper no one else could see. "Sofia started caring for your mother in March, correct?"

Gibson nodded. "Yeah, she had a stroke, and she needed full-time care."

"When did you realize Sofia was gone?"

Scratching the side of his temple, he glanced down in thought. "Uh... The Sunday before last."

"Okay," She murmured, writing something on her file. "And when did you find out Jeana was talking with an estate attorney?"

Gibson stopped. "What?"

Looking up at him, she blinked a few times before expressing surprise. "Oh, you didn't know? I'm sorry, I thought we had in our notes somewhere that Miss Mun said you terminated her services," Her voice trailed off as she started flipping through papers, searching for a specific document.

"O- Oh, that-" He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat as she moved, and he waved a hand to stop her. "That was nothing. Mom was just a little stir crazy. Old people are like that sometimes. A- And Sofia was trying to get into her head. That's probably _why_ she took off, because I found out about it."

Delgado blankly watched him ramble. Once he was done, she offered a skeptical hum and turned back to her documents.

* * *

Inviting his guests inside the farm, Adam brewed some hot tea to chase the cold away. He prepared a cup for himself and Andy, and the two settled in at the table by the kitchen, their chairs in adjacent corners to each other.

Connor circled around the first floor. It was his first time inside the home, and in addition to his own curiosity, he needed to ensure this was an innocent meeting. They couldn't get comfortable just because they'd found androids here once - there was no telling what Adam's motives were, or who'd gotten to him since their visit.

Adam watched him with a nervous frown, and he jumped when Andy tapped the table by his mug of tea. "Ignore him," She piped, nodding her head toward the paranoid android in the room, "Talk to me."

It was easier said than done for the boy. Shifting in his chair, his hands went for his tea, and he started, "When Mom found out you were here, she decided we needed to cross the border."

It explained the state of the property. Anything that wasn't a commonly used spot in the home seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust. As Andy considered this, he continued, "But I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. They still needed us. Some of them can't get away from their old owners alone, or they can but they don't know where to go."

She distinctly remembered him not being a fan of androids when she was here, and she couldn't help but wonder what brought on the drastic shift. "How do you help with that?" She asked.

"I get rid of their old lives - you know, from before they were deviant," He answered.

It was vague, and she felt that was intentional, but she understood what he meant. "Sounds dangerous."

"I've got some friends around town who owe me a lot of favors," He said with a shrug and an awkward smile. "Anyway, I help them get to Jericho... which is easier now that that's in one big warehouse."

_Tell me about it,_ she mused. Before she could reply, Connor spoke up. He was behind her now, delivering a firm stare. "How did you get the detective's number?"

His height seemed so much more dramatic from where Adam was sitting, and he cowered a little in his chair. "I- I looked her up. Asked around. It- It wasn't that hard," He confessed.

"That's comforting," Andy muttered.

* * *

Most of the boxes in Jeana's home had been opened now.

Officers were spread out all through the house, each one looking through whatever contents they'd been assigned. Newspapers, personal documents, clothes, and various small decorations were scattered across every floor. It was a mess, and it was going to be a bitch to clean. If they didn't find something here, Hank was going to be pissed. Well, _more_ pissed.

Wandering into the almost-bare kitchen, he absent-mindedly pulled open drawers and cabinets. Empty.

He was standing over the sink when his eyes drifted to the small trashcan at the end of the counter space. It was missing a trash bag, and small enough to see it was empty, but it reminded him of another piece of property they'd yet to search.

"When's trash pickup?" He yelled out to whoever was listening.

A few officers looked up and at each other. A man kneeling on the tile of the dining room over a box shrugged, and replied, "Wednesday."

Hank's scowl remained, and another officer hesitated before saying, "To...day is Tuesday."

"I know what fuckin' day it is!" He snapped, waving a dismissive hand toward the people staring at him on his way out of the kitchen.

* * *

"So Sofia came to you," Andy said to Adam, leading the conversation to why they were there.

He nodded. "A few days ago. We met at a bus station a few blocks from the Motel Six." Glancing down at his tea, he frowned at the memory of the meeting. It was more tense than they usually were, and he should have known then that Sofia was in bigger trouble than he thought. "I try to talk to them about their lives, maybe calm 'em down a little, but it just upset her."

Andy rested her elbows on the table and knitted her brows. "Why?"

"She said she watched her best friend die. It was how she deviated, but she wouldn't share any more than that; she was scared about something, about some guy she thought was chasing her," He trailed off, eyes darting up at Connor. "I guess... that was true."

"Who was chasing her?" Andy asked.

"I don't know. I never saw him, and she definitely wouldn't tell me who it was."

Connor was the one to speak this time. "Why not send her to Jericho?"

Shaking his head, Adam explained, "She didn't want Jericho. She wanted someone who could make him go away, someone who would take her side, whatever that meant." He gestured to Andy, "Once I mentioned you, she wouldn't take anyone else."

Connor believed the story so far, but he also disapproved. "You shouldn't have mentioned anyone at all. Sofia needed Jericho's resources, not yours." What Adam was doing was reckless and naïve; he was putting himself and every android he come across in danger, and now he was handing out Andy's phone number as well. If he wanted to help Jericho, there were better ways to do it.

Adam turned his palms out in defense, arguing, "I didn't know it was so serious! When they're that freaked out, you don't ask questions."

"Asking questions is _exactly_ what you do," Connor snapped.

"Connor."

He looked at Andy, expecting her to tell him to back off, but instead she was showing him the screen on her phone. It was an incoming text from Hank, containing a photo of a regulator pump with the added message, '_Found it in the trash_.'

He nodded, confirming, "That's her serial number."

With that, they had Stephen Gibson, but what Andy really wanted was a full confession - it would ensure that they didn't need Adam's testimony, or her phone call with Sofia. She was pretty sure she knew how to get it, too. Leaning toward Adam, she stressed her next question. "She used the exact words to you, that she lost her best friend?"

"Yeah, definitely."

Dialing a number on her phone, she looked up at Connor as she waited for an answer. "I know how we press Gibson."

* * *

Reed kept his phone on silent during interrogations, but the vibration in his pocket alerted him to the incoming call. He pulled it out and kept it under the table, but was able to see Andy's name glaring up from the ID. He didn't remove himself from his seat beside Delgado, answering silently as she continued talking to Gibson.

"So if the estate attorney was Sofia's idea, what was she trying to convince Jeana to do?" Delgado asked Gibson.

"I- I don't know," He sighed, throwing his hands into the air. "Look, there was a voicemail on my mother's phone from this- this woman talking about their appointment," Leaning on the table, he pointed to his chest, "I pay good money for our family attorney, so I was annoyed. We argued, I told Sofia to remember her place, and I thought that was that."

"What was her place?" Delgado questioned.

His face contorted into annoyance at what he no doubt considered a stupid question; it was as if she'd just asked him simple subtraction. "A tool. So I could work to afford the bills in that house my mother insisted on staying in," He complained.

The call from Andy ended without a single word from Reed. Lowering his phone into his lap, he tapped into his keyboard as he interjected, "Well it all worked out in the end. Sofia's a shiny pile of junk now."

They turned to him in mild surprise, but he shrugged them off. Nudging Delgado in the side, he was able to show her what he'd written as Gibson insisted, "I _never_ touched that android."

"Then how did her regulator pump end up in your trash?" Delgado asked, looking up from the message on the phone.

It threw Gibson off his guard, and the stunned expression made that clear enough. When he couldn't manage to say anything, Reed gave an exaggerated shrug and leaned forward. "Hey, I don't blame you. I worked my ass off for this job, then some special _android_ waltzes in at the same exact rank as me," He ranted. Pressing his index to the side of his temple, he added, "Hey, but one in the head? That'd be problem solved."

There was an audible puff of disgust from Delgado, and Reed threw a shrug and lazy glance her way. "What? It's true. Robots go down just like people. Except robots aren't people; they're tools, just like my man here said," He pointed to Gibson, and with a reassured grin, he told the man, "Busting plastic isn't murder."

The show of comradery was working, and Gibson was quiet for a few, tense seconds. Finally he asked, "If that's true, then why am I here?"

Delgado lowered her folder to the table and asked, "Where were you on the morning of last Wednesday?"

If they were looking into last Wednesday, then that meant... With a bitter, unbelieving laugh, he shook his head. "You've gotta be kidding me," He muttered, then looked her in the eye and stated, "My mother passed in her sleep."

"That's not what she asked you," Reed said, his voice low but steady.

Gibson's eyes darted over as his expression fell. His jaw was clenched, his body stiff. "For six years, I have paid her bills, bought her food, given her every single Sunday... and you have the nerve to accuse me of something like that? When she was already _dying?_" He growled.

It didn't scare off Reed, who implied he understood. "You snapped. It's only reasonable. All those Sundays, all that financial sacrifice, and then suddenly a robot is Mommy's new favorite, isn't that right?"

"Shut up."

Jutting his chin toward the man, he grinned, "Tell me, was Sofia your idea too? Because that really would have pissed me off, buying the bitch that stole my inheritance."

Gibson slammed his index finger down on the table, and spat, "She _didn't_ steal my inheritance. My mother's will leaves everything to me."

"The old one did." Delgado's voice tore him away from the heated exchange, but his eyes were wide, and they looked to be on the verge of wild. "But this investigation led us to the estate attorney you fired, and according to her, there was a new one in play."

At this point, he started to tremble. Shaking his head, he reeled back in his seat, mumbling under his breath, "No, no, no, no, there's... There's no evidence of another will-"

Delgado nodded and pushed, the soft politeness of her voice giving away to a tone more calculated and threatening, "Oh, there is. Miss Mun keeps meticulous records of her work. Copies of everything. You may have destroyed yours, but I'll be forwarding hers along to the proper channels." Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head. "And I'm sure a jury would love to see it, too."

He stretched his arms out to either side, hands moving along the table. He gripped the edge so tightly, his knuckles were going white. Several seconds passed of this, of him staring at the metal table, looking for a way out.

Eventually, he realized there wasn't one.

"If you just left it alone...," He hissed. "She was dying, for god's sake. I mean...," He looked up at them with tears forming in his eyes, but there weren't shed for his mother. His voice gradually raised as he went on, ending in a furious shout, "Who cares if the bitch kicked it a _little bit sooner_?!"

"Sofia."

He looked to Reed in a daze, the detective's answer having pulled him from his outburst. He hadn't expected an answer, least of all from him.

The silence that followed inside the investigation room was as eerie as the ghosts in Jeana Gibson's home.

* * *

By the time Andy and Connor returned to the precinct, Stephen Gibson had written down his confession, and the arrest was official. The detectives and the DDA were side by side at the edge of the bullpen as they watched an officer walk him to the jail cells behind Fowler's office.

Andy's brows raised in surprise. "I gotta say, I'm impressed you two managed it."

Reed scowled. "Thanks," He retorted, breaking away from the group to return to his desk.

She waited until he was out of earshot before focusing on Delgado. "I _should_ be thanking _you_."

"Yes, you should," Delgado joked before waving her off. "I would have wanted it this way anyway. That kid would get torn apart on the stand with or without his connection to you."

Behind them, Officer Chris Miller approached. He cleared his throat to get their attention, then pointed to the lobby as he told Andy, "You have a visitor."

She wasn't expecting anyone, but she bid Delgado goodbye and headed for the lobby. In the doorway, she saw the same petite woman she met earlier in the day, looking out the windows to the street.

"Miss Mun?"

Leona Mun jumped at the sudden voice in an empty lobby. She spun around, and cleared her throat when she saw Andy. "Detective," She greeted, pulling at the bottom of her blazer. Picking up her purse from the chair in front of her, she reached inside as she crossed the room. "I made that copy of Jeana's will for your investigation."

Andy didn't think she'd receive it so soon, but the last thing she'd complain about was cooperative lawyers. She took the attached papers handed to her and started to skim them, replying, "Thank you. This is gonna be very useful."

In the bullpen, Connor was looking for Andy, and Chris Miller directed him to the lobby. He slowed to a stop in the doorway, where he could see them in conversation.

Meanwhile, Leona smiled; it was almost unnoticeable, and it disappeared as quickly as it was formed, but it was genuine, and a nervous gulp followed it. "Jeana loved Sofia. The law doesn't allow for an estate to be given to androids, so she wanted the next best thing," She explained.

The words Andy was reading were plain and clear. They didn't allow for any misinterpretation, and not once did they mention Stephen Gibson. No wonder a man like him snapped. "She wanted everything to go to Jericho," She picked up where Leona had left off, looking up at the lawyer in awe.

Leona confirmed it with a nod. "Starting tomorrow, I'll be working on her behalf to see it through."

"I think she'd be happy about that," Andy praised.

It was unnecessary, but Leona appreciated it. "I looked into you, Detective." She gave pause before speaking again, this time a little more casual, "You were the one who refused your orders at the riot. You have contacts with Jericho, so I was... hoping you could let them know."

Andy eyes flashed with a faint amusement, and a little excitement. This woman was good. "You aren't the only one who did your research, Miss Mun," She countered, gesturing to her with the papers in her hand. "You used to be a civil rights lawyer."

It caught Leona by surprise. Most people who looked into her name focused on the other stuff, between the estate work and the high-profile celebrity cases. "That was a long time ago," She murmured, a weak attempt at being dismissive.

"Do you miss it?" Andy asked.

Leona paused again. "There are days."

The answer was good enough for the detective. "I'll let them know," She mused.

"Have a good night, Detective."

"You too."

Andy watched her on her way out of the building. As the lawyer descended the steps outside, Connor came up to Andy's side. She didn't have to look to know it was him - Connor just felt different than other people. "I like her," She declared, eyes still on Leona's back.

"You're not so bad, yourself." He was grinning, and it pulled a snort from her. "Can we talk in private?"

"We keep sneaking off to talk, people are gonna get suspicious," She joked, though she nodded and headed for her desk to drop off Jeana Gibson's will. "Come on."

* * *

This was fast becoming a tradition of theirs, Andy thought to herself. Once again, they had retreated to the operations room, though this time with less tension on Connor's shoulders. He shut the door behind him and Andy wandered further inside, lowering herself onto the edge of the desk under the two-way mirror.

Connor walked up, telling her, "Markus called. Adam wants to meet him and become an official volunteer."

She grinned, "Probably for the best. What did you tell him?"

He wasn't happy about Adam's activities, but he recognized the intention behind them. It was people like that who would help Jericho achieve equality. "He's inexperienced, but he wants to help, and he _does_ have resources," He admitted, albeit stubbornly. "We shouldn't turn that away."

"Just as long as we keep him out of a court room, which Delgado says we'll be able to do," She said, clasping her hands together in her lap. Connor joined her against the table, and she added, "Thanks for not snitching."

The insinuation that he would offended him. "You didn't think that was a possibility, did you?"

She found his displeased expression amusing, and with a small laugh, she shook her head. "No."

The day's events had left her with a tension in her neck. Reaching up to massage it, she blurted, "God, I want to drive my fist through Gibson's face." At least then she'd feel a little better, she thought. "Then make a blanket fort. I bet I could hole up in one of those for a few days. I'm resilient."

He watched her squirm, relieved she was feeling well enough to complain. He started to respond, but a yell from Hank in the bullpen bled through the door. "Ben, you hear from the morgue yet?"

This brought a groan from Andy's throat. Her head lowered until her hair fell to hide her face. "And I still need to tell Hank about the farm."

"He deserves to know."

"I know, but...," Pursing her lips, she looked up at him and whined, "He's gonna be mad."

He chuckled. "I'd think you were used to that by now."

"I can't believe you're laughing at me," She scoffed, slapping the back of her hand against his arm.

"This won't come as a surprise to him. You'll be okay," He assured her, recalling how suspicious Hank had been after Andy emerged from the farm. Neither of them believed her. Looking back on it now, Connor couldn't believe how he responded. Even when he was under CyberLife constraints and it should have forbade him from doing so, he was trying to protect her.

He really was infatuated.

She had no idea where his mind had taken him, so she wouldn't have known how nervous she made him when she sat up and nudged her shoulder into his. "By the way, what happened between you two this morning? Hank almost bit _my_ head off over it," She'd asked.

That was another problem he had to deal with. He could see the memories as clear as the present, memories of Hank passed out against the side of his bed. Waking him had been an ordeal, even more so than it had been the first time he found Hank passed out, and Connor almost left without him.

Shaking his head, he told her, "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."

Usually, those were fighting words. She heard them as a challenge to push until she was told everything, but not today. Today had been long and exhausting, and she trusted Connor to keep to their promise: no dangerous lies. "Okay," She gave in, nodding.

She stood from the table and slipped her hands into her pockets, but didn't go anywhere. There was an uncomfortable conversation waiting for her on the other side of that door. She also felt that familiar sensation she'd been getting lately, the one that told her what she was doing wasn't right - like little red flags warning her that she was missing her chance.

She had a sneaking suspicion about what it meant now.

* * *

The uncomfortable conversation had been _precisely_ as uncomfortable as Andy predicted.

Hank just stared at her at first. She stopped a few times, wondering if he was in mid-stroke, but then he'd quip some sarcastic remark. A few times, he closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. By the end of it, she had sank lower into her chair and was waiting for what she believed would be a grumpy verbal thrashing.

He didn't do that, though. He glared at her, then scowled and looked away, then started to yell, then sighed and ran a heavy hand over his face. Whatever rollercoaster he was on in his mind, he was having trouble deciding when and where to get off it.

Finally he threw his hands up and stood from his desk. He yelled something about a headache, told her he'd deal with all this later, and then stormed out of the bullpen.

She half expected an angry phone call in the middle of the night.

What she didn't expect was to find Connor in her apartment when she came home.

They stood several feet apart, frozen in place and staring at each other in mild surprise. Her hands were halfway to removing her police jacket, while his were holding the corners of a recently unfolded bed sheet.

"Huh," She started, stepping toward him. "Never had someone break in to _give_ me stuff before."

He turned to face her fully, the ends of the bed sheet floating after him. "I used the spare key you gave us," He explained.

"Okay," She nodded. "Why?"

The answer, and therefore the idea, seemed like such a good one - _before_ he was caught. He glanced down at his hands, trying to come with a way to explain himself, or maybe disappear. Disappearing would have been good, too.

"_Oh._"

He looked up, and saw her eyes pointed behind him. Stools, pillows, and cushions were meticulously placed around the living room, creating a foundation that he was just about to build on.

"I was hoping to have this finished before you got home," He confessed. She was quiet, too quiet for his liking, and his frown deepened. "I'm sorry, was this okay?"

If she looked at him any harder, he was going to start thinking she could see something he couldn't. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, and it seemed to break her from whatever was going on in her mind.

She smiled a small, almost tired smile, and whispered, "Yeah, it's pretty okay." Stepping closer, she took hold of the blanket in his hands, "But building it's half the fun."

* * *

Andy learned two things that night.

One: her apartment was the perfect place for a blanket fort. The living room provided enough range to spread blankets and pillows out on the floor, and the furniture that came with the apartment was heavy enough to keep her sheets in place. What made it perfect, however, was the view. The entrance of their draped contraption faced the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and the city lights cast a warm glow that bounced off the sheets and lit up the area. Child Andy would have never left the house if she'd had this.

They had pushed the ottoman into the middle of the fort, and were using it as a backboard. She'd lowered herself until she could place her head on the cushion, and she rested her elbows on her bent knees. Connor was beside her, sitting taller against the furniture, with one knee up and one leg outstretched. It was the most at peace she'd ever seen him. He discarded his jacket and shoes to the side, and rolled up his sleeves. His hair had been messed from all their construction work, and he didn't bother to try to fix it.

He was amazing. He was patient, understanding, compassionate. Stubborn, but not domineering. He matched her step-for-step when she was being difficult, and she knew that was often, but he never expected her to be anything different. Everything she'd seen in relationships before had not been that. They were stifling. Suffocating. They didn't have her back when decisions blew up in her face, and they definitely didn't make blanket forts when she wanted to withdraw from the world.

She couldn't stop staring, because that was the second thing she learned: If your gut is telling you to take a chance, listen to it.

"Hey," She called. He blinked down at her, and she didn't wait for a response. "Ask me out."

She almost thought the words didn't compute, he was so still. After another second, he pushed a hand into the floor to straighten and twist himself just slightly toward her. He was uncertain - getting his hopes up was the one thing he didn't want to do, but it was hard when she was looking at him like that. "Why?"

She gave an amused huff, and quirked a brow. "I was under the impression you wanted to," She whispered.

He was quick to quell any concern she may have had about that. "I do, I... just...," Trailing off, he frowned and asked her, "Are you sure?"

Her nod was hard to see as her head remained on the cushion behind her. "As you could see from today, I am always 100% certain of all my ideas," She joked.

That didn't help any.

It certainly wasn't the way he envisioned this going, not in her apartment, at midnight, surrounded by bed sheets, and missing his shoes. As he already knew, though, nothing about this was conventional. He settled his nerves as best he could, and he took his chance. "Would you like to go on a date?"

It couldn't be that easy. She wouldn't let it. "Word on the street is I'm a pretty frustrating girlfriend," She warned with a growing smirk.

He returned her expression with half a grin. "I think I can handle you."

"Confident," She sang. Pushing herself up a little to be almost eye level with him, she propped an elbow atop the ottoman between them. "When?"

"Friday."

She laughed; it was quiet, but in the silence of a room where Connor wanted to note every little detail, it was the clearest noise he'd ever heard. "You don't waste any time."

He shrugged and admitted, "I might be a little eager."

"Friday, it is," She agreed with a nod and a smile. Motioning up at him, she invited, "You feel like doing me one more favor?"

She had no idea how many favors he was willing to do for her. "Name it."

"Can I kiss you?"

For a brief moment, he didn't know how to react to that. Until now, he'd been telling himself their relationship, should it happen, would be a slow process. She would need a lot of time to adjust, and he would need a lot of time to learn.

It was kind of silly, in hindsight: after all, once a Hope set their mind on something, that was that.

He moved a hand to her jawline and leaned in before he could second-guess himself, and she met him halfway. He didn't know what to expect - he knew he liked to touch her and feel her skin against his - but this was a kind of closeness he couldn't describe. It was an entirely new sensation.

She held the back of his head and deepened the kiss, something he didn't realize was possible. Before he could get lost in the moment, she pulled away just enough to let cold air fill the gap between their lips and press her forehead to his.

The corner of her lips quirked up into a lopsided grin, and he couldn't resist going in a second time.


	20. Deadlines and Kiddy Pools

**December 1, 2038**

The knowledge that Stewart Combs wasn't working alone had wrecked Hank. There was a protocol for handling a lone gunman with an extremist agenda, but now reality had changed and there was a ghost controlling the machine. Stewart Combs was merely a symptom of a larger threat lurking in the shadows. Protocol couldn't help with that.

He spent his nights dwelling on all the possibilities, from who could possibly have that much power in Detroit to what their ultimate goal was, because Combs' desire couldn't have been the end of it. He dwelled on who they could trust, because he was sure this was someone with useful allies. The dwelling encouraged the drinking, and before Hank knew it, he was spending most of his free time blacking out. It was better than the alternative, which was to face the very real and very frightening reality that they were all in over they heads.

Life had a funny knack for drowning him that way. Just as he'd start to see the sunlight through the surface, a tide would pull him back under to the bottom of the ocean.

It was too much, and all he wanted was for things to return to some form of normalcy. He wanted distance from Jericho and everything related to them, and he just wanted to do his job - the old one with normal homicides, from before androids and CyberLife and hackers.

Unfortunately, Fowler had other plans.

"Why the hell are we the ones doing this?"

Andy was leaning against the driver's side door of an unmarked van when she let out a frustrated sigh. For an hour now, she'd been listening to her partner grumble and complain. Watching him pace in front of her, she teased, "Don't want to see your old friend?"

Hank swerved on his heels and pointed at her. With a cranky warning flashing over his features, he told her, "Don't you ever say that to me again."

She snorted at that, before shrugging and dismissing his sour mood. "I'm not happy about it either, but it's just a drive. It's not a big deal."

It was very much a big deal to Hank, who glowered at her and began to rant again. "Has everyone forgotten what department we're in? It's not our responsibility to drive around a pompous, puffed up jackass!" He scoffed and turned away, muttering, "I swear Jeffrey's _trying_ to kill me."

"Or me," She retorted under her breath. Catching the attitude, he turned to deliver a pointed stare, but she gave an innocent shrug.

"My apologies for the wait, officers."

Sauntering down the ramp connected to his home was Elijah Kamski. He was well-dressed and arrogantly postured, pulling at the cuffs of his blazer. He delivered a tight smile as he walked closer to the detectives, "A man has to look his best his first time back into the spotlight."

Andy stepped away from the van and reached for the back door. Her movement pulled his attention to her and once she turned, he tilted his chin upward and said, "You must be the lieutenant's partner."

"Andy Hope." She kept her answer short and her expression blank, a professional courtesy to mask her distaste for the man.

There was a small pause as he looked at her, seeking something he didn't share aloud. Whatever ran through his mind, he kept it to himself as he moved toward the van. The detectives shared long, exhausted glances, but his voice called out, "Oh, and-" They turned to see him peeking around the van door, his gaze aimed at Hank. "Pompous and puffed up are the same thing."

He offered no time for a rebuttal, climbing into the van. Andy quietly shut the door, directing her awkward stare at anywhere but her lieutenant. She cleared her throat before finally turning toward him. "He's right-"

"Shut up," Hank exclaimed, rushing to get into the vehicle.

* * *

That morning, Connor and most of Jericho's leaders met in a makeshift office at the warehouse to discuss an upcoming meeting with CyberLife and Urban Farms. It would be a contentious meeting; whether they won equal rights after their latest march or they had to keep fighting for it, everyone needed to know what those scenarios looked like. CyberLife would be deciding on one, whereas Jericho would be framing the other.

"We'll need android management over production lines," Josh stated. He sat backwards in a chair he pulled from a desk, resting his elbows over the top of his seat.

Leaning against the aforementioned desk, Simon asked, "Can we even trust them to be part of it at all?"

There was a bout of silence between everyone. CyberLife had ulterior motives, and they weren't sure that would change just because the president decided to declare them members of society. Uprooting the entire corporation wasn't their ideal choice, but it was a possibility they had to consider.

Connor knew of ways to handle CyberLife, and he believed it was the main reason he was there. Pacing in the empty space of the room, he explained, "We'll need total access to investigate every one of their systems and files, otherwise we can't trust them."

It was a tall order, and Simon voiced the concern. "After what they did to you, they're not going to want to let us see all their secrets."

During the conversation, Markus had been standing at the side of the room. His arms were crossed and he listened quietly as he looked over the documents and news clippings pinned to a corkboard on the wall. These papers were evidence of CyberLife wrongdoings and celebrations of Jericho support. They were reminders.

Twisting to look over his shoulder at them, he said, "If we achieve equal rights, they'll have to."

The office door opened, and North barged into the meeting. "Turn on the news," She demanded, marching across the room to the flat screen on the wall. She placed her hand against it and the skin on her palm went white as she powered up the electronic and navigated through the channels.

"What's going on?" Josh asked.

The answer he received was a shot of the local news. A reporter for Channel 16 stood between her cameraman and the front of the CyberLife Tower, in mid-sentence. The scene cut from her to earlier footage of the tower entrance, where two familiar detectives were escorting Elijah Kamski inside.

_"-Life has yet to comment on why they're meeting with Kamski today, but rumors suggest it has something to do with an upcoming conference between CyberLife and the United Nations. Kamski retired from his position as CEO about ten years ago and has lived in seclusion ever since, but he continues to be the foremost expert on artificial intelligence, and was even questioned during the revolution by law enforcement."_

The group stared at the screen in unguarded surprise. Most of them had never met the man responsible for their creation, had never considered what kind of person he was, or if he would ever make a relevant appearance. Seeing him now was a shock to the system, and they weren't sure what to think.

Josh had stood from his chair, his nerves demanding that he do something. Anything. "Why is CyberLife bringing in Elijah Kamski?"

"I don't know...," Markus murmured. Looking to Connor, he asked, "Have you heard anything about this?"

Connor shook his head. "No. They're up to something."

* * *

When Elijah Kamski arrived at CyberLife Tower, Danielle Carnegie was waiting to greet him in the lobby. She had little to say before she accompanied him to the elevators, leaving Hank and Andy to wait for his return on the first floor. This worked in their favor, as Richards had asked Hank to speak with CyberLife Security about protecting Jericho during their future meeting.

This led them to the surveillance control room. It was an impressive sight; a dozen screens were affixed to the wall above a wide desk that was home to a complicated control panel. Hank was inside in the middle of a heated debate with the Head of Security, while a fresh-faced guard manned the desk and tried to appear oblivious to the growing tensions.

Andy had followed Hank here, but her ringing phone removed her from the room. She stood in the hallway, and watched the scene as she answered her call. "Hey."

Connor didn't waste time with a greeting. "We saw the news. You're at CyberLife?"

"Yeah, SID's busy with some big robbery sting so Fowler put us on Kamski Watch this morning," She explained, pursing her lips when she focused on the grumpy detective in the control room. "Hank is ecstatic."

"Did Kamski say anything?"

"Aside from being an ass? No," She muttered before glancing around. The hallway on the first floor was not a busy place, but she saw enough traffic making their way through the lobby to get a feel for the environment. People were anxious, and they were whispering among each other. Keeping her voice low, Andy added, "But it seems like everyone who isn't in the meeting is in the dark with the rest of us."

It confirmed Connor's suspicions. "Then this isn't about the UN conference."

She nodded to herself and replied, "That's the impression I'm getting. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Be careful."

This pulled her into a lopsided grin. "Careful's overrated," She joked. She heard a small huff in response before ending the call, and she approached the control room, leaning against the door frame.

Chuck Massey was a tall man whose protective gear only emphasized his sternness. He was staring Hank down as he said, "We have a strict patrol all over this building and the area outside it, and I resent any notion that we're not prepared to prevent tragedy from striking."

It would seem they hadn't noticed she left in the first place, so she tuned them out and let her eyes wander up to the screens on the wall. Each one showed the live feed of a security camera somewhere in the building, and occasionally flipped to a different one via input from the guard working the control panel. From here, one could see just about every floor of the tower.

It was interesting enough, but then one screen changed and caught her full attention. The conference room on the other end held a large group of people, with Kamski and Carnegie being two of them. What stood out to her was not the people, but the room itself - Andy had seen it before.

"I just think it'd be easier on everyone to have police doing police work," Hank had sneered as Andy was lost in her thoughts.

The only sign that Massey was angered by the comment was a clenched jaw, but it was enough to scare most of his employees. "You're welcome to start doing your job anytime, Lieutenant," He hissed through gritted teeth, "Now if you'll excuse me."

He nodded at both detectives and left, brushing past Andy on his way out. Hank threw up a hand to gesture in the direction the man left, saying, "I hate private security. Assholes thinks they're law enforcement just because they've got a license to carry." Turning to wave at the equipment behind him, he continued, "All this flashy junk isn't gonna save anyone from a sniper, but what do I know? I've just been doing this thirty years."

"Yeah, you're real old," Andy muttered, barely listening. He glared as she moved into the room, but her eyes were glued to the screens. Directing her next attention to the last guard left in the room, she asked, "How secure are these cameras?"

It took the young man a moment to recognize she was talking to him, but once he did, he scoffed. "What do _you_ think?" When the detectives pointed flat stares his way, his expression fell to one of mild fear. Shifting in his seat, he walked back his attitude, "Uh, they're... pretty secure. Ma'am. We built the NSA's systems off its predecessor."

"I'm sure they appreciate your discretion," Hank spat.

Andy ignored the sarcasm, continuing her line of questioning. "If someone accessed them, would you know about it?"

Nodding, the guard explained, "If it's not authorized access, it locks their system and sends an alert here so we can dismiss it or pass it on to you guys. And everything gets recorded in the activity log."

"We need those logs, at least for the past year."

"I can't-" He started to shake his head, but sighed and told them, "You'd have to clear that with legal."

Thinking about dealing with CyberLife's lawyers in any capacity gave Hank an immediate headache. "And lawyers always feel so helpful," He grumbled.

The guard gave an apologetic shrug, but a sound from his earpiece stopped him. "10-4," He confirmed into his own mic before looking up at the two. "Mister Kamski's out of his meeting. He's on his way to the lobby."

It couldn't have come fast enough, and Hank nudged Andy toward the door. They left the control room and the door slid shut behind them. Standing out in the hall, Hank turned and asked her, "What was all that about?"

"I recognized that conference room-" She cut herself off. Stepping closer to him, she pointed to the control room door over her shoulder and said, "Whoever Combs is working for has access to those cameras."

* * *

The leading faces of Jericho were now all gathered in the office: Markus, Connor, North, Josh, Simon, and Rupert. They watched the vague news coverage as they waited to hear something useful, be it from Channel 16 or Andy.

Finally, a buzz erupted among reporters as a group of people exited the CyberLife Tower, and the scene switched to a camera zooming in on the entrance. At the forefront was Danielle Carnegie, who led them to a portable podium. She stepped up and gave a curt nod to the audience, waiting for the people present to settle into silence.

_"We're going to keep this short, as we'll have a full press release on Saturday, so please hold any questions until then,"_ She instructed everyone. _"With that said, I'd like to introduce our new Chief Executive Officer, Elijah Kamski."_

The office at the Jericho warehouse was deadly silent. Of all the possibilities they'd gone over, that wasn't one of them. Kamski was a powerful man, a smart man, but CyberLife had been clinging to the way things were before the revolution. This wasn't a small tech company that circulated through CEO's every year - there had only been one since Kamski stepped down. Replacing him was a drastic move, and it was the first time Jericho truly felt outgunned.

As per Danielle Carnegie's orders, none of the reporters spoke, but the change in atmosphere was loud all on its own. It was obvious even through the screen.

Carnegie turned on her heels and waved a hand toward Elijah Kamski, who was standing to the side of the scene until his cue. He stepped forward, casually taking her spot at the podium as if he had never stopped being the center of attention.

_"Good afternoon- and thank you, Miss Carnegie,"_ He nodded to the woman, before continuing, _"This has been an interesting time for all of us, but that is especially so for CyberLife. Our role is changing in the world, and it's important now more than ever to embrace the possibilities of technology, and to adapt. For those reasons, I was asked by the board to return to my proverbial child here and offer guidance."_

The smile on his face was a hard one for most people to describe, including Connor. It was as insincere as it was harmless - disarming but also suspicious. It was the enigma that was Elijah Kamski.

_"I may not be able to discuss many of the details, but I can assure you that I will have everything under control, whether President Warren decides our androids are products, or declares them to be life."_

With a small bow of his head, he then shifted his stare along each of the cameras.

_"Thank you."_

* * *

As soon as Kamski took a step from the podium, the audience broke their silence. Questions were shouted in repetition, each reporter trying to yell over everyone else. Cameras flashed, creating a constant white light over where CyberLife employees once stood.

Kamski walked straight from his spotlight to Hank and Andy, who stood a few yards away. They saw him approaching, and they struggled to contain their surprise over the announcement by the time he reached them. He said nothing, merely nodding at them; a silent, arrogant order to follow.

They looked to one another but shrugged and fell into place on either side of him. They escorted him down the sidewalk that wrapped around the building, and Andy glanced out to the press that tried to follow them. Some faces she recognized - Channel 24's field team was also on sight for Jericho's march, and Channel 16's regular field reporter was leading the pack with a new camera man to replace the one Combs had shot.

A security guard brought the van around from the garage in the back. He crossed the parking lot and met them on the curb, handing the keys over to Hank.

That was the last clear thing Andy remembered seeing.

* * *

The cameras still tried to follow Kamski as he walked away from the temporary stage. Channel 16 beat most of the other stations, the cameraman at the front of the wave. He focused in on Kamski's back, and he framed the parking lot. The reporter was explaining the last few moments, but no one at Jericho was listening. Rupert lowered the audio and turned to face his companions, but caught a bright flash in his peripheral vision.

The explosion was deafening, even at low volumes. White light flooded the screen, followed by orange and red. The camera shook, its operator trying to keep focus even as he fell backward onto the pavement. Once the initial hit was over, it was clear what the target had been. Where the unmarked van was once parked, there was now minuscule rubble under a tower of flames and smoke.

"Shit!" North cursed somewhere in the office.

A crash in their own space surprised them further, and they turned to see the tail end of the door slamming against the wall, and Connor running out of the room.

* * *

The next half hour was a vague blur for Andy.

After all the necessary emergency services were on scene, EMTs tried checking over everyone who'd been outside the tower. This was not an easy task, as CyberLife security was frazzled and at least half of the news stations had managed to slip off the property before police arrived to lock down the bridge leading into the city. They discovered no one had serious injuries, and other officers were able to get Kamski safely home.

Hank and Andy would return to the precinct to check in with Captain Fowler. Hank was talking to him now, but Andy sat at her desk. Her elbows pressed down on her knees as she held her head in her hands. Her head pulsed with a ringing that EMTs told her could last for a few days. Her chest hurt, the wind having been knocked out of her after landing on the pavement. She was dizzy, though that was starting to fade.

Stronger than any of it was a growing impatience to work. This had to be Stewart Combs and his allies, and that meant that one of them had physically been there at the tower. She was so close to them, and she didn't even notice. That thought fried her nerves more than the explosion ever could.

Something cold bumped into her shoulder, and she lifted her head. Reed towered beside her, holding a bottle of water. He wouldn't say anything, but the gesture - coming from _him_ \- was enough. She took the bottle from him with a small nod, and as quietly as he approached her, he returned to his desk. She sat up, opening the bottle and taking a large sip of cold water.

"Andy!"

Connor's voice gave Andy a sudden wave of relief. She stood to meet him, and immediately his hands were on her arms. His head lowered so he could look her in the eyes, and he asked, "Are you okay?"

"The EMTs cleared us."

"That's not what I asked," He said, looking over her. He could feel scrapes at her elbows and her breathing was rough, but she appeared otherwise physically unharmed. It was everything he couldn't see that concerned him.

"I'm-" She couldn't _begin_ to explain what was going on in her head, so she nodded. "Yeah."

"Where's Hank?"

"He's with Fowler," She answered, tilting her head to the side.

The men in question stood behind the frosted glass of Fowler's office. Hank's silhouette shifted on his feet, with his hands at his hips. Seeing them both okay finally let Connor start to relax, though he doubted that would last long. He started to speak again, when a buzz of whispers emerged from the entrance of the precinct.

Two black-suited men had entered the bullpen, making fast strides toward the captain's office. Connor didn't have to know them personally to recognize their demeanors as that of federal agents. One stood shorter than the other, and a little older. The gel in his dusty blond hair shone under the precinct lighting, and he walked with a confidence that toed the line into arrogance.

Andy's eyes moved from him to the other man, whose rectangular face was framed by black stubble and a clean hairline. This agent wasn't a stranger, and if Warren Walsh was here, it meant nothing good for the department. "Shit," She cursed, watching them cross the bullpen and knock on Fowler's door.

They entered the office, which signaled time for Hank to leave it. He returned to their desks, clapping on Connor's shoulder in greeting. With a heavy sigh, he summarized his meeting with the captain. "Bomb squad finished clearing the tower. They found pieces of a modified landmine in the rubble."

It wasn't anything Andy didn't expect to hear. "We knew this was Combs, the question is how."

Hank shrugged and gestured over his shoulder to the captain's office. "Well, it's a question they're gonna have to answer. Fowler's sending us home."

_That_ was the surprise. "What?"

He knew the decision wouldn't sit well with Andy, but truth be told, Hank welcomed it. It was his ticket out of dealing with the world-changing threat that was Stewart Combs and Company. He just had to get his partner on board. "You heard me. We're getting psych evaluations in the morning and we're going back to our regular jobs on Homicide."

Unfortunately, getting Andy on board was going to be the hardest part. Her eyes widened at the news, and she sputtered out, "Wh- Hank, we know more about this guy than anyone."

"Yeah, including that he's got a third one of those things out there, and he's got friends," Hank hissed under his breath, leaning in to keep the information away from the rest of the department. Glaring at her, he argued, "Maybe you didn't notice, but we almost died today, Andy. This is a federal case. Let them run the show."

"We should still _do_ something," She waved a hand in the direction of the FBI, complaining, "For god's sake, they sent two agents - they're underestimating him."

She was right, but it didn't change how Hank felt. "Well that's their problem now," He shrugged. It was an attitude the small voice in the back of his head was berating, but he'd gotten pretty good at ignoring that voice over the years.

Andy knew it was a bullshit response, and she knew he wasn't that oblivious. "Come on!"

"Andy-"

"We can't quit just because it's not our jurisdiction anymore!"

"Damn it, we can, and we will!" Hank shouted.

The escalation created an awkward silence, made worse by curious glances scattered throughout the bullpen. It didn't last long, but the seconds it took for the normal motions of the precinct to return was painstaking.

Hank took in a deep breath, stepping forward and keeping his voice low. "This is too big for us. It is a _federal_ case. I'm done chasing supervillains," He slashed his hand through the air for emphasis before pointing at Andy, "And I'll tell you something else, I'm going home right now to open a beer and think long and hard about who to send that memory card to. So go back to your apartment, give Natalie a call, and get some rest."

Andy was battling a disorganized mess of nerves; the childish anxiety that always came with being reprimanded versus a stubborn conviction to fight the world. Connor could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out how to manipulate the situation in her favor while mitigating the backlash.

It was not unlike his own dilemma. The two people closest to him were put in serious danger that morning, and he wanted to dedicate every ounce of energy into hunting Combs down, preferably alone and without anyone there to stop him once he caught the man. What he wanted more, though, was their safety, and that meant knowing when to step away from a case.

"I'll get her home," He interjected. It immediately incurred Andy's wrath, and he ignored the stare he could feel beating against the side of his head. Hank gave a small nod of thanks, but Connor leaned forward with added unease. "But are you certain you should be drinking ri-"

Hank's hand went up to stop him. With a hard stare, he ordered, "Do _not_... start with me today, Connor. Don't."

Connor could think of a dozen different reasons to not drop the subject, but because of the day's tensions, he backed down. It would have to be a conversation for another time, after everyone processed what happened. He waited until the lieutenant left the precinct before turning to face an angered Andy.

"I'll get her home?" She repeated quietly, as if the words themselves were poison.

He began to shrug. "I was trying to kill the argument-"

"By starting one between us?" She exclaimed with a huff of bemused laughter.

Shaking his head, he declared, "Hank's right. This is dangerous, and if he doesn't think he's up to chasing Combs, you shouldn't be doing it."

He wasn't wrong about one part, at least; a disillusioned detective was a bad match for a case. If Hank needed to walk away, so be it - but Andy wasn't going to follow. Her phone vibrated on the desk, and she picked it up as she insisted, "I can't just sit by."

Connor softened, telling her, "You shouldn't be doing anything when your adrenaline is pumping. You need to relax until you can think calmly."

Her eyes darted up at him and she shot, "Telling me to be calm is a surefire way of making me _not_ calm." She didn't let him continue, holding up her phone to say, "The president's speaking." He bit down the rest of the argument as she reached to turn on her computer.

She navigated to a stream of the news, and sure enough, President Warren was standing at a podium in the White House.

_"At twelve this morning, a car bomb went off at the CyberLife Tower. It is not the first sign of terrorism we've faced since the revolution, and we believe these attacks to be connected and anti-android in nature. This sort of violence is uncalled for, and will not be tolerated. We will be lending our resources to the Detroit Police Department in a widescale effort to bring in whoever is behind this._

_"The rights of androids have been hanging in the balance, and I feel we will only see further aggression until decisions have been made. For that reason, everyone has been hard at work trying to learn and understand what makes androids deviant, and if that is grounds for a new, intelligent life._

_"At the end of this year, on December 31st, I will be declaring an official stance in regard to Jericho and its goals. No matter what happens, it will be a new world for everyone. May we enter it with peace in our hearts. Thank you, and God Bless the United States of America."_

With that, the president lifted her papers from the podium and removed herself from view. The scene changed to previously captured footage of the explosion at the tower, while a news anchor faintly summarized events in the background.

It was all white noise to Connor. December 31st. One month until whatever happened would be made official. Everything Jericho was fighting to achieve felt suddenly very real, and the consequences were just around the corner. Had they done everything they could to convince people they were alive and deserving of equality? And were they ready in case they hadn't?

"Wait..." Andy broke him out of his thoughts as she started to manipulate the stream. She rewound through several minutes, and finally paused on a clip focused on the aftermath of the explosion.

The Detroit Fire Department was containing the fire, EMTs were tending to the witnesses, and news stations were packing up their vans. She zoomed in and positioned the screen over Channel 16's vehicle. A man stood behind it with his back was toward the camera his face partially hidden under the brim of his cap. The angle of the camera filming managed to just catch enough of his face that it provided a blurry side profile.

Andy remembered seeing him. He was the new camera man. He'd kept his head ducked while filming, but at the time, she assumed it was to keep an eye on his viewfinder. Now she believed there was a different reason, and coupled with fact Channel 16 was one of the first press vans to leave before police arrived, she had her suspicions as to why. Gesturing to the monitor, she stood straight and told Connor, "There. Blue hat. Can you ID him?"

"Give me a minute," He replied, leaning down to examine the monitor.

"Detective Hope?"

Andy looked over at the two federal agents standing a few yards away. She turned and slid to the side to obscure their view of the desk and said, "That's me."

The shorter man pulled at the front edge of his suit jacket. "I'm Agent Ivers. We're going to need you to tell us your version of this morning's events," He ordered, gesturing toward her.

Andy shifted on her feet and crossed her arms, brazenly sizing him up. Recognizing her opportunity to keep working, she asked, "Am I going to be involved in the case?"

His body language never changed, but a pause in his response gave away his irritation. "We'll handle this without interference from local law enforcement," Was his snide, rehearsed response.

"Then you can read my report just like everyone else," She said, grinning.

He stared at her, a faint sneer starting to shine through his expression. "I've heard a lot about you, Detective Hope." He left it there, the open-ended remark hinting at the negative rumors and complaints.

She picked up on it, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Only good things, I'm sure," She joked.

From behind her, Connor interrupted the growing tension. He looked to Andy with urgency, confirming her theory. "It's him."

She didn't have a chance to process this before the FBI agents perked up at his words. "What's going on?" Walsh asked, his brows furrowing in skeptical curiosity.

Andy remained where she was. This gave her leverage, and she wasn't freely handing it over. "Am I working on Combs?"

Ivers had to contain his frustration. "Are you threatening to impede a federal investigation if I say no?"

"I'm not doing anything other than my job," She shrugged.

Walsh took in a deep breath and piped up, "You're on the case, Andy." When Ivers started to protest, he complained, "We can go back and forth all day or we can take the help."

Reluctantly, the two agents faced her and waited for her information. She scrutinized them a second longer before stepping aside to show them the computer. They approached as she revealed, "Stewart Combs was in the press crowd."

This news floored them, but Andy had been struck more than the others. He had been _right there,_ in arms reach of her. If she'd just payed a little more attention, all of this could have been avoided. It also brought another event to mind - the shooting outside the Detroit precinct. Shaking her head, she declared, "I don't think he was targeting Joss Douglas last week."

"He wanted the camera man," Walsh muttered.

"Which would mean he's been at Stratford Tower," Ivers cursed under his breath, reaching for the phone in his pocket. He nodded to Andy as he dialed, saying, "We need your bomb disposal unit."

"Yeah," She agreed, moving for the landline sitting on her desk as the agents left the bullpen.

Connor watched her spring into action with a quiet, disapproving stare. "Captain Fowler took you off this case."

Flashing him a chipper grin, she excused, "He took the _DPD_ off this case, and the FBI just put me back on it." She waved a hand toward him. "Hank's still going home. He got what he wanted, I get what I want."

"He didn't want you on it, either," He clarified, pursing his lips.

All she could do was shrug and offer, "Well, nobody's perfect." She lowered into her chair, and as she listened to the other end of the call ring, she looked up at Connor and whined, "And by the way, you used to like my moxie back when it was helping _you_."

He narrowed his eyes at her. Leaning closer, he argued in a whisper, "This is the second time you've been near an explosion, Andy. I still like your moxie, but not when it's jeopardizing your life for a case." He was caught off guard by the grin cracking through her expression, and the chuckle she tried to withhold. "You're laughing at me."

"I didn't think you'd say moxie," She confessed. Hearing someone pick up her call, she shifted to work mode. "This is Hope. We need bomb squad at Stratford Tower."

* * *

It was an hour wait at the precinct before Andy's phone rang. She and Connor shared a nervous glance, and she picked up the phone. "It's Hope."

She could hear various noises beneath Walsh's voice as he responded. "Combs took off the second they got back to the tower. Channel 16 gave us the employee record they had for him. I'm sending you the file now."

Pulling away from her phone, she opened the most recent message sitting at the top of the screen. A file loaded and displayed a copy of the employee record, which she moved to the edge of her desk to share with Connor. It was clear at first sight that the information presented was false, but Andy focused initially on the name.

"Eliot Hughes," She read before humming in thought. "I know that name." Looking to Connor, she asked, "Why do I know that name?"

"We know the address, too," He answered, pointing to the line in question. "It's his step-sister's."

The file on the memory card returned to Andy now; Stewart Combs' second step-father had children of his own, and one of them was married to a man named Hughes. Turning on her speaker phone, she told Walsh, "He applied with his brother-in-law's information. That's his residence."

He sighed and said, "All right, Bomb Disposal is clearing the tower and Ivers wants us here until they're done. Can you go to the address and see if they're willing to talk?"

With a new excitement, Andy jumped to her feet. "Got it."

"Be caref-"

She hung up her phone, sliding it into her pocket as she went for the jacket over her chair. By the time Connor stood up, she was passing him on her way out. "Shouldn't you talk to Hank before you do this?" He called out to her.

"Hank's getting drunk right now," She exclaimed, sliding to an abrupt stop. She turned around, and he was met with a frustrated glare.

It stopped him from arguing. As much as he hated her chasing someone like Combs, as much as he wanted to take her by the shoulders and convince her to spare them the concern for her wellbeing, he knew she was doing this no matter what. It reminded him of a thought he once had, when Andy discovered the first landmine. He'd been so busy keeping her out of his trouble with CyberLife that she went out and tripped into even more danger all on her own.

Trying to protect Andy Hope was like trying to put out a forest fire with a watering can. If she was going to jump headfirst intro trouble, he would just have to be right there beside her.

Finally, he gave in and followed her out of the precinct.

* * *

Savannah Hughes was the name of Stewart Combs' former step-sister. She was a nurse who worked night shifts, and she lived in a two-story townhouse with her husband, three young children, and a pet hamster. She had her life together, and when a detective showed up knocking on her front door, she knew immediately that they were here for Stewart Combs.

Andy and Connor sat on a couch in her living room. In front of them on the floor were her two eldest playing video games, while she was in the kitchen with a toddler sitting against her hip. She poured water into a glass that she carried into the room, and placed on the coffee table in front of her guests.

Andy reached for the glass and murmured a quiet, "Thank you."

Savannah nodded, sitting down in an opposing recliner. She positioned her child in her lap as she went on to admit, "Look, I want to help whatever's going on, but I don't know what I can say."

"When was the last time you spoke to Stewart, Mrs. Hughes?" Connor asked.

The memory was still fresh in her mind, so she didn't have to stop and think on the answer. Shrugging, she said, "It wasn't long after he lost his job."

"When they brought in androids?"

Savannah scoffed. "I'm sure that's what _he_ thinks," She sneered, "He always wants to blame androids for everything. He'd point at everyone else for his problems instead of just looking at the facts."

Andy and Connor shared a small glance. "Which are...?" She trailed off.

"My husband worked at that factory. Still does," The mother of three began, "He said Stewart started a lot of fights, that firing him was the best decision those people could have ever made. He came around a couple weeks later, asking for money. He scared my kids. Scared me." She paused, hiding a lip quiver beneath a kiss to her toddler's forehead. "I told him to stay away from us."

"Did he listen?"

With a half exhausted huff of laughter, Savannah turned back and told her, "The only good thing about Stewart is that he knows where he isn't wanted."

Maybe it shouldn't have, but the bluntness surprised Andy. She ignored it, moving on. "How was the family's relationship?"

The woman softened for the first time since they mentioned Combs. With a tinge of guilt and sorrow, she said, "We loved his mother. I don't blame my dad for marrying her. She was sweet. Stewart, though..." Her eyes glazed over as she tried to find the right words. There were years of stress and pain and torment behind her voice as she said, "I always knew that was going to haunt us."

* * *

Finding out that her husband's identity had been stolen sparked a reasonable fear in Savannah. She cautiously accepted Andy's offer to allow a patrol car linger near their home for the night, and then she called Eliot home. They stayed with her until he arrived, and the conversation in that time provided a clearer image of Stewart Combs: he was dogmatic, manipulative, and violent. He had no good relationships outside of his mother, and he lived a complex and structured life that no one else understood, but was easily rattled. He wasn't boisterous, but it was the silence that scared people.

It was a description that had Andy reeling, and she voiced as much as she and Connor crossed the front yard. "God, that was a _lot._ I don't think I've ever known a guy so hated by his own family before, and that's saying something - I've met Reed's old man."

"I don't think Combs will be coming here," Connor pondered aloud. He stepped around her bike, reaching for his helmet. "We should let Ivers and Walsh know this was a dead end."

Andy nodded, but a vibration in her pocket alerted her to a new call, and she pulled out her phone. Feet hitting the pavemenet by her bike, she greeted, "Yeah?"

The muffled voice that came through was vaguely familiar. "Detective Hope? This is Gabriel Mateev. You might not remember, but you stopped by about two weeks ago."

She recognized the name as the bondsman from Oak Park who helped identify Stewart's father. Because of him, she knew Prosper Hobbs was a familial alias for a conman named Sebastian Hewitt. Nodding, she declared, "Right, the recovery agent."

"Yeah," He grunted, and she could she hear papers rustling in the background. He found what he was looking for and went on to say, "It turns out I was right about Sebastian Hewitt not staying out of trouble. He posted bond with another company a few days ago and he just missed court. They reached out to us to handle it, so I got to looking at the paperwork and the co-signer signed his name as Stewart Hobbs."

It was like a slap in the face. She tensed and looked to Connor, who was curiously waiting to hear the news. "You're shitting me," She breathed out.

Gabriel almost chuckled as he replied, "No, Ma'am. Maybe it's a coincidence, but I've never been big on those." He was walking out of a building as he added, "I tracked Sebastian down and I'm on my way to pick him up now. I thought I'd give you a heads up in case you want to be at the station when I bring him in."

That was an even bigger slap, Andy decided, and her eyes widened. "No, you shouldn't be going out there," She protested, "If they're in touch, Combs might be with him right now. This needs to be done by police."

He lowered himself into a car and closed the door before he responded. "Listen, I'm already dancing in a gray area here just to tell you this much. You can't raid someone's house because your guy _might_ be there."

Normally, she would have agreed, but acts of terrorism called for a different rulebook - this was a _federal_ investigation, after all. "Combs almost assinated a public figure this morning and he's got another explosive in his back pocket. He's looking for a place to hide out. This information needs to go to the FBI."

Gabriel was quiet a moment, and then sighed. "How about this: I'll swing by the house and if I see anything suspicious, I'll back off," He assured her, starting his car. "I'll see you at the station, Detective."

"No- Gabriel-!" The call clicked off, and she bit down the curse that wanted to erupt from her throat.

Connor lowered his head, looking to her in concern. "What's happening?"

She took a moment to process and control her panic. "That bondsman we talked to is headed straight for Stewart Combs," She muttered, calculating their next step. Taking in a deep breath, she pointed out to herself, "Bondsmen have to check in at the nearest district." She waved a hand toward Connor and asked him, "Can you get that address for me?"

He nodded, and the yellow cycle on his LED showed her he was making the call. While he worked on that, she dialed a different number, and Walsh answered after three rings. "Hey, how'd it go?"

She went straight to the point. "There's a bondsman on the way to a house right now where I think Combs is staying."

"What?"

She sighed, closing her eyes in irritation. They didn't have time for a recap. "Combs' father is out on bond and Combs co-signed it. They're either hiding out together or he knows where Combs is; either way, the bondsman's walking into fire. You need to meet me there."

Even in his silence, she could hear him struggling. With a strained sigh, he copmlained, "Ivers isn't leaving a possible bomb site for a hunch."

That didn't matter in the least to Andy. "Well I'm going there so if you feel like being involved, you know where I'll be," She snapped, looking up at Connor across from her. He nodded in confirmation, so she said, "Connor sent you the address."

"No, Andy, don't hang up-"

* * *

The home Gabriel reported to local PD was seemingly abandoned, with boards over windows and a pile of trash in the alley to the side of the house. An empty car was parked at the curb out front, but there was no other sign of life from the point of view of bystanders. By the time Andy pulled up to the lot, an unmarked vehicle was doing the same.

Warren Walsh jumped out of his car and slammed the door shut behind him as Andy and Connor climbed off her bike. He was storming down the sidewalk toward them, shouting, "When I tell you not to hang up on me, that's kind of what I'm-"

Connor interrupted. "The door's been kicked in." The two turned to him and then the front porch of the house. The door had been left ajar, but a strip of the wooden frame was removed and laying on the floor.

Andy went to the car that was there before all of them, leaning down to peer in through the driver's side window. A computer was resting in the passenger's seat, and in the back she could see a bag of tools, a rifle, and a bullet-proof vest. "This is Gabriel's car. He's still here," She called to the others.

The discovery wiped the casual irritation off Walsh's face. "There are vests in the trunk," He said, running to the back of his own car.

He opened the trunk as they joined him, and he pulled out two bullet-proof vests. Two was all they had - one for him and Ivers. Andy slipped one on over her torso, glancing from the house back to Connor. "Wait here," She told him.

_That_ wasn't going to happen, especially when the person going with her was Warren Walsh. He didn't know the man, but he could tell Andy did, and she didn't like him. That was all he needed to know. Connor waited for Walsh to finish attaching his vest and moved around the side of the vehicle. Once he was out of sight, Connor glared at her. "I'm not letting you go in there without me."

"Yes you are," She started, slapping the last strip of velcro to her vest. Turning to face him fully, she added, "That's an order, not a debate."

She'd only ever pulled that out on him once before, when they were in the abandoned subway. It worked out then, but he wasn't interested in testing their luck again. "I'm not with the police department, anymore," He retorted.

At that, she flashed him a grin. "Then I'll arrest you," She joked, pushing the trunk closed and winking at him. Before he could argue, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him on the cheek. It was a brief exchange, and she was walking away a second later.

She and Walsh approached the door, each of them remaining on either side of it. The gap between the door and the frame was not enough to get a good glimpse inside, but they could hear faint foosteps and heavy breathing. Andy knocked her knuckles against the frame, calling out, "Sebastian Hewitt? This is Andy Hope with the DPD."

The noise grew louder into panicked rustling, but they received no answer.

Connor was reluctantly waiting on the sidewalk. He watched them with a close eye, ready to bolt into action or call for backup at a moment's notice. This ended up paying off - from where he stood, he spotted two feet emerge from a bathroom window in the alley. Stewart Combs pushed himself out of the house, and Connor was off before his feet even hit the gravel. Hearing the movement, Combs turned and saw the android running in full force toward him.

Combs ran for it in the opposite direction, and Connor yelled out as he raced by the porch, "It's Combs!"

Andy began to reply, when a shotgun blast to the front door had her and Walsh throwing themselves down to their knees.

Someone was yelling inside, no doubt Sebastian Hewitt himself. They vaulted over the railing at the edge of the porch to use the house foundation as cover, and Walsh went for his phone. "We need backup and an ambulance. Combs has been sighted and we've got a shooter, possibly a man down," He rattled off as they retrieved their firearms and prepared for a shoot out.

"Sebastian?" Andy shouted, peeking over the floor of the porch. "Gabriel?"

Inside the home, Gabriel Mateev was on his back in the dining room. He held a shaky hand over a bleeding wound in his side, the offending knife a few feet away. He grimaced, lifting his head to check his injury and see that he was alone in the room. "I'm here!" He yelled out, almost getting cut off by his own coughing.

Sebastian burst in from the kitchen, aiming a shotgun down at the bondsman. His long gray hair waved in his face as he screamed, "Shut up!"

* * *

Stewart Combs had led Connor down the alley along the side of the house. He knocked down every trash can and pile of garbage he could get his hands on to slow Connor down, but the android's reflexes were quicker. He dodged around or jumped over every obstacle given to him, and within a minute, he was gaining speed on Combs.

The gravel path led out to a sidewalk on the other side, where four adults and at least a dozen children were out in the front yard of the nearest home. The apparent event was a large birthday party for a nine year old named Evelyn. The picnic table was decorated with a black cloth, white and red banners, and a professionally made cake in the shape of a pirate ship. Small outdoor activities littered the yard, most notably a parrot piñata and a small kiddy pool with remote-controlled ships floating on the water.

Emerging from the alley, Combs couldn't wait to get to the sidewalk, so he cut through this yard. The screaming started immediately, and adults were racing to gather the children behind them. He used the bench to propel himself up onto the picnic table, where the cake was trampled under his heavy-duty boots. The moment he touched down on the other side, Connor was slamming into his back.

This sent them both into the child-sized depths of the kiddy pool.

They were laying on their sides in a messy but dangerous tussle. Combs knew enough about martial arts to be a threat, but lacked the experience to finish the fight, so he grabbed an RC ship and tried to smash it over Connor's head. The android raised a hand in time to stop it, and the impact shattered the ship into pieces. Combs pushed himself out of the pool and jumped to his feet, running for the sidewalk. Connor was quick to follow, and had to deflect a colorful piñata being thrown back at him.

Leaving the yard, the chase lasted three more blocks and went into the nearby, fairly populated park. It was mostly a highway for people walking through the city, with paved paths stretching out in each cardinal direction. At the end of the north path was a railing overlooking the street below, with stairs at either side for easy access to the adjacant train station. It was exactly where Combs was headed.

Connor jumped over benches and ran through the maintained grass to try to cut him off, but Combs hoisted himself over the railing and took the long drop rather than the stairs. Reaching the end of the park, Connor looked over the railing and saw the back of Combs' head boarding the train just before the doors closed, and the train left the station.

"Damn it!"

* * *

A ringing phone in an otherwise quiet house made Sebastian and Gabriel both jump. Sebastian frantically scanned over Gabriel's body to pinpoint the source of the noise. Noticing a light from the man's left pocket, he knelt down and snatched the phone from its home. _Det. Hope_ shone on the caller ID, and after several hesitant seconds, he answered it. "Hello?"

Hearing him on the other end, Walsh and Andy looked to each other in mild surprise. Neither of them expected that to work. Remembering that they were on a bit of a tight timeline, Andy quickly spoke, "Sebastian Hewitt? This is Andy Hope with the DPD-"

"I know who you are!"

She waited a second to see if he was hanging up on her. When the call remained, she said, "We just want to talk."

"What do you want?" He was close to dry heaving; they could hear his panic bleeding through the phone. This could have meant good things for them, as a desire for the situation to be over could mean he would be more willing to negotiate. It also could have been very bad - with how much trouble was stacking up against him now, he was no longer thinking clearly.

"Is Gabriel hurt?" Andy asked, choosing not to mention Combs just yet.

"Wh- I-" There was a pause as he looked over the man. "He's bleeding. He came in and- and he stabbed him."

Andy nodded, and asked, "Okay, can you help him?"

"I- I don't..."

Recognizing she was losing him, she interrupted, "Sebastian, I just want to talk to you, but if Gabriel dies, we can't do that."

The long stretch of silence that followed made them start to think he abandoned the phone, but finally he returned. "I've got a towel," He murmured.

Andy clenched a fist and gave a small pump of victory. "Okay, I'm going to walk you through this," She started, waving a hand toward Walsh. He understood what she wanted, and he stood to sneak his way up the porch stairs. She stayed where she was, and would proceed to walk Sebastian through the steps of first aid. She spoke slowly, as to give Walsh enough time to get inside.

He crossed the porch and inched the door open, allowing sight of a foyer that led into a hallway. He took painstaking steps to move into the house, and returned the door to the position it had been left in.

The sound of mumbling underneath Andy's voice echoed throughout the house, but he didn't have to follow it for long. To the right in the hall was a wide archway leading into the dining room, and Walsh leaned around the wall to see Sebastian kneeling over Gabriel. On one side of him was his shotgun, and on the other was the phone, in order to free up his hands so he could apply pressure to a bloody wound. Gabriel could see him, but tried not to give away his position.

Walsh took a step into the room, and a floorboard under his boot gave out to a loud creak.

It was like setting off a rocket. Sebastian spun around and saw the federal agent standing there, gun in hand. He reached for his shotgun and stumbled to his feet, firing off a shot behind him as he bolted to the kitchen. Walsh ducked back to cover himself, and once Sebastian was focused on running, Walsh took off after him.

In the front yard, Andy dropped her phone to the ground after hearing the gunshot. She jumped the stairs two at a time and ran inside, catching the tail end of the chase as it took its way outside. Gabriel Mateev was left where he was, attempting to take his first aid into his own hands.

Two fugitives were on the loose, but Gabriel was more important in that moment. Andy rushed to kneel down at his side, mumbling a small greeting to let him know she was there. He relaxed his head against the floor, groggily moving his hands out of her way. "Guess you were right," He choked out with half a pained grin.

Andy was holding a towel tight against his side as she shrugged, "You get used to it."

* * *

When Walsh started after Sebastian Hewitt, he expected a quick and sudden end.

Unfortunately, Sebastian was faster than he looked. His feet stumbled and kicked out pebbles as he ran, but he always managed to stay upright. Walsh thought he was in shape - thought he could outrun most assailants - but Sebastian was proving to be a challenge.

At the end of the alley, four shaken adults were tidying up the interrupted mess of a child's birthday party. They were shoving pirate-themed cups and plates into trashbags that, also unfortunately, held the remains of a painfully priced cake. Someone had tossed the broken piñata to the edge of the yard near the trash cans, and was gathering up pieces of the RC ships when Sebastian came barrelling through the yard.

He stepped onto the piñata on his way across, and his foot sank straight down into the papier-mâché. It caught around his ankle, and finally he lost his footing. He toppled over into the grass and his shotgun slid across the yard, the sight of which evoked more screaming.

By this point, Walsh arrived. He ran to the man who was trying to climb to his feet, and yanked at his arms to put him in handcuffs. The federal agent quickly retrieved his badge from his pocket and flashed it to the civilians while he pulled Sebastian to his feet. He gathered his fugitive and the stray shotgun, before turning and pushing Sebastian back down the alley.

* * *

Shortly after Walsh returned, a squad car arrived alongside an ambulance to take Gabriel to the hospital. Officers searched the house while Walsh waited for his partner. Andy texted Connor to make sure he was okay, and joined the officers once she got a vague but positive response. In the back of the squad car outside sat Sebastian. He leaned forward with his head in his hands, and ignored every attempt anyone made to speak to him.

Andy had yet to try, though, but that changed after she found a way to motivate him. She opened the car's back door, and knelt down into a crouch on the pavement beside him. Elbows on her knees, she glanced over the scrape on his forehead and asked, "How's your head?"

"Go away," Was all he said, his groaning muffled through his palms.

"Not until we talk about Stewart," She rejected.

He tried to wait her out, expecting her to give up like the other officers did. Instead, she remained. Feeling her presence looming there, he raised his head just enough to peak out from beneath his fingers at her. "Leave my son alone."

She didn't have to respond, lifting up a toolbox he recognized as the one Combs had been keeping in the house. She dropped it on the car floor where he could get a good look of the contents as she opened the lid: a pistol, a baggy of red ice, handcuffs, duct tape, and a photo of Sebastian Hewitt. She sifted through each item, displaying them out across the edge of the seat.

Sebastian watched with a confused frown, pulling away from his hands. "What is this?"

With a shrug, she lowered her arm back to her knee and offered, "Looks like a murder kit to me."

His eyes widened. Looking up at her fully now, he stuttered, "He..."

"How long have you known your son?" She asked.

He struggled with his last bit of reluctance, but the toolbox said it all. Letting out an exhausted sigh, he propped his forehead against the back of the driver's seat. "The day he co-signed for me," He grumbled, finally caving, "I don't know how, but he was there waitin' for me at the station. Said he wanted to get to know me. I figured I wasn't around when he was a kid, I may as well start now."

"I'm sure it had nothing to do with the bond money."

He sneered at her and spat, "Screw you. I get enough judgment from the _local_ cops."

This didn't upset her any. Shrugging, she warned, "That's not gonna get better if you don't help me find him."

"I don't know anything," He complained. When she shot him a skeptical look, he exclaimed, "I don't! He put me up in this house, told me he was gonna get my record taken care of, and then we'd leave the city come New Year's."

Andy's brows knotted. With everything Combs was doing around Detroit, leaving in a month seemed to put him on quite the schedule. "Why leave then?"

Sebastian waved a hand and muttered, "He's got some big plan. I didn't ask." This wasn't a satisfactory answer, so Andy scoffed and stood to walk away. "Hey, I'm tellin' the truth!"

This made her snap. Twirling on her heel, she slapped a hand at the edge of the car frame and bent down to stare at eye-level with the man. "Oh, don't worry about that, Mister Hewitt, I believe you don't know a damn thing about your son," She jabbed.

It did the trick, and he reeled back like he'd been slapped in the face. It didn't get them anywhere; Combs was still on the loose. She didn't even particularly care for his sake. It was just a day's length of frustration, and Sebastian was the most well-deserving target she could find.

With an annoyed sigh, she began to walk away again, but he called out once more. "W-Wait!" She stopped. Controlling herself better this time, she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning halfway out of the car. "He always says he goes to his mother's grave when he wants to clear his head. I-I don't know where that is, but...," His eyes drifted to the sidewalk, realizing it was not as helpful as he'd hoped it would be. "I like Gabe, okay?" He whispered, a guilt-ridden gaze returning to Andy, "This... this isn't what I wanted."

Andy tried to feel something for him in that moment, but found herself hard-pressed. Finally, she shut the door and walked away.

Walsh was on a call with his office, and was hanging up as she approached him. He looked to her, and she nodded at the squad car, asking, "So FBI's doing the official interview?"

He expected this question to lead into a fight, and he was at the end of his rope. Sighing, he remarked, "Yes, Andy, the FBI is handling the interview for the FBI's case." She started to defend herself, but he stepped closer to complain, "No, I've done more than anyone would expect me to for you - I've gotten you in on the search, I left my partner to come here-"

Scoffing, Andy interjected, "And I was right, Combs was here."

"-Do you have any idea how much shit I'm going to take back at the bureau for helping you out?" He went on, ignoring her comment. Throwing a hand into the air, he exclaimed, "And you can't even be polite with me!"

She stared at his pout a moment longer before asking, "Are you done?"

"Maybe?" His voice was still raised, and he gulped in a breath of air. Calming down, he nodded and said, "Yeah, I think I'm done."

"Get Hewitt out of the city," She ordered, bringing the subject back to the current situation, "Interrogate him and hold him somewhere else."

The lack of a fight around who would handle Sebastian surprised him enough, but that was taking it even a step further. He scrutinized her a moment, looking for a sign of a lie, or maybe a head injury. Finding nothing, he asked, "Then where do we hold him?"

Over his shoulder, Andy spotted a patrol car pull up to the curb nearby. The passenger door opened, and Connor stepped out onto the sidewalk. She watched him as she said, "There's an officer in Toledo who needs to know about Gabriel. Tell him what happened, and ask him to hold Hewitt for you."

Walsh noticed her gaze elsewhere and looked to see the android he faintly knew to be one of the FBI's least favorite androids. "What's going on?" He asked, unable to take her agreeable attitude for much longer.

But Andy meant what she said - she didn't want Sebastian, and she didn't want Detroit to have him. Shaking her head, she moved past him, saying, "I'm not going to tell you that. Just keep him away from Detroit."

She travelled the sidewalk to meet Connor at her bike, and as they got closer, they noted each other's sign of wear. Thirium splattered across his cheek and water dripped from his clothes and hair, while Andy had blood stained on her shirt and a tinge of red where she'd earlier nudged hair out of her face.

"What the hell happened?" Andy asked, rushing toward him.

Incredulously, his eyes widened at her. "Me?" He stressed, fingers going to the smear on her forehead.

Realizing what he was looking at, she reached up to pull her hair back and assured him, "It's not mine." Dropping her hand, she waved it over his form and repeated, "What the hell happened?"

"I fell into a pool."

"What?"

"Combs made it onto the train," He deflected the question, stepping closer to confess what he felt was a grave mistake on his part, "I called the precinct and got to the next station while they were searching the train, but he was already gone." He looked above her head to the scene playing out behind her. He found Walsh by the unmarked vehicle, and Sebastian in the squad car, but couldn't locate Gabriel Mateev. "Is the bondsman all right?"

Andy didn't know that yet, so she could only shrug. "He's on his way to the hospital," She answered. Putting a hand on his arm, she urged him over to the bike. "Sit down."

He didn't think it necessary, but he complied nonetheless and sat against the seat. She pulled off her jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders, then went in to grab his chin. She was unabashed in her worry, and he smiled a little as he wrapped a hand around her wrist. "I'm all right," He told her.

She wasn't entirely convinced, but she let go and lowered her hand until it slipped into his, where she gave a light squeeze. It was quick - she immediately pulled away to sit beside him - but it was an affectionate mix of messages just for him: _I'm Sorry_, and _Glad You're Okay_.

Connor focused on the man wallowing in his misery in the back of the squad car, and asked, "What's going to happen with Sebastian Hewitt?"

She looked that way, shoving her hands into her pockets. "FBI's taking him into custody."

He wondered if he'd gotten there late and missed her inevitable tirade directed at the FBI, but she seemed calm as she spoke about it. "You don't have a problem with that?" He quizzed.

"No," She shook her head. Removing her hand from her pocket, she brought out her phone and started to search her contacts. Finding the number, she pressed the screen and lifted it to her ear. "We have somewhere else to be."

He studied her for any tells about what was happening, but she gave him none. When the other end was answered, she greeted, "Hey, Mrs. Hughes, it's Detective Hope. I know this is abrupt, but I was hoping you knew where Stewart's mother was buried."

* * *

Stewart's mother had chosen to be cremated. It was cheaper and easier for her family. According to Savannah, making the grieving process smoother and ensuring as much insurance went to the family as possible was all she wanted at the end of her life.

She'd still been buried, though. Stewart buried her.

The last time Andy was at Woodward Church, she didn't pay much attention to the romantic architecture or the tall dome ceiling. She didn't examine the traditional hanging lanterns, or notice the vintage piano at the back of the stage. She didn't realize there was a small cemetery behind the building. These were all overshadowed by the deviant androids hiding within the old brick walls, and whatever they managed bring with them when they fleed from their burning former refuge. It was probably the first time Woodward Church had been a sanctuary for people in years, evidenced by the dust, debris, and disrepair it had been left in by its once intended community.

She walked down the aisle toward the stage, watching clouds roll by between the stained glass windows and the moon. The thud of her boots echoed and reverberated even with a portion of the exterior walls missing, and danced with the ringing in her ears. Coming to a slow stop at the front pews, she turned to her left, where a man sat staring up at the mural over the centerpiece piano.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can-"

Stewart Combs snorted, a longer chuckle bursting from his throat. "Anything I say will pale in comparison to the news footage a jury is going to have to watch." With hands clasped in his lap, he glanced to Andy from the side of his eye and said, "I want to talk to you."

It surprised her how soft-spoken he was. If they weren't in an empty church, she would have had to strain to hear him. Slipping her hands into her pockets, she joined him in admiring the paint on the walls. "It's a beautiful church," She praised.

He was unmoving in his seat, and let the conversation soak between all of his responses. "My mother dedicated the last half of her life to it. She ran the youth group, and played the piano for every service," He recalled, eyes wandering down to the musical instrument coated in dust.

"She was well-loved," She mused.

With a small grin that Andy worried she would see in her nightmares, he added, "Unlike me, you mean." Looking at her fully for the first time, he raised his voice a little to say, "I'm impressed you walked in here. SWAT doesn't exactly have a reputation for being patient."

No, they didn't. They were camping out under a tent on the street, with thermal cameras and snipers trained on the church. Someone else outside was Connor, who had let her enter the church on the condition that he could pull the plug if he saw anything he didn't like. Coming in here wouldn't have been allowed at all, if not for their discovery of a dangerous package upon arrival.

Shrugging, she declared, "You left your things on the doorstep. You knew we were coming. You could have rigged this place if you wanted to."

"Maybe I still did," He joked.

She did not find it funny. "I'm betting you don't have more explosives."

"Gambling's a bad habit, Detective."

Pursing her lips, she quirked her brows and took slow steps across the floor toward the edge of the stage. "I'll keep that in mind."

He started speaking again while her back was turned to him, and his voice hinted at a righteous anger. "You should have let me kill Sebastian," He said. "Deadbeat fathers are a blight on this world."

She looked at him over her shoulder and pulled out a hand to gesture to him. Lowering herself to sit on the stage, she asked, "So is that your thing, then? You're judge, jury, executioner?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in frustration, but he hid it behind a wry smile. He leaned forward, as if letting her in on a secret, and said, "If I wanted a two-dimensional analysis of my motives, I would have turned myself in to the FBI."

"Then what?" She asked.

This pause was longer than the others. He pressed his back against the pew behind him, and returned to staring at the mural. Rather than answer her, he had a question of his own. "Are you musically inclined?"

She wanted to keep on track, but she knew this kind of conversation was an opportunity she would never get again. Taking in a deep breath, she rested her elbows on her knees and looked down to the floor. "Not particularly."

"My mother would bring us here on Saturdays so she could practice for the next morning. I would sit right here and read to the music," He described, pulling his hands apart to point at the pew underneath him. Waving his hands around him accordingly, he went on, "Then androids started taking jobs. Homelessness escalated. The community, the congregation, collapsed. This place was abandoned. Without it, my mother had nothing left."

He squared her with a hard stare, blame mixing in with the anger. "And then a couple of broken machines come stumbling in here one day, hiding from the law. Sacred ground desecrated by abominations of man."

Once eye contact had been made, she would not be the one to break it. "I didn't take you for the religious type," She insinuated.

"I have a moral compass, so I must be religious?" He bit, raising a brow. He'd taken slight offense, and realizing it, he straightened his back and regained his composure. "Holiness is a virtue earned by sentiment. This is sacred ground because my mother made it so, not because of an old book."

"So where does murder fit into your moral compass?" She pushed.

Another snort. As if she'd asked a stupid question, he retorted, "A drunken thief and a shady landlord? The world will truly weep for their absence."

His dismissal was cold and arrogant, and it brought an annoyed frown to her face. "Why do _you_ get to decide who matters?"

Noticing her displeasure, he contended, "Ask their victims, then, which fate is preferable. At least my way stops them from hurting any more people."

"_You_ hurt people," She snapped, jutting her chin out toward him in accusation, "Who decides what happens with you?"

It was obvious to him, and he lifted both hands to gesture dramatically toward her and offer half a shrug. Relaxing in his seat, he told her, "You could shoot me right now if you wanted to. You'd get away with it. I put cops in danger, after all. If anything, the sniper outside would be mad _he_ didn't get to take the shot."

Crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the broken railing, she said, "I'd rather see you in a bright orange jumpsuit."

He smiled again, this one appearing secretive and manipulative. "Would you do the same for the man who killed your father?" He asked. He let the words sink in before adding, "Or will killing him be okay because it's _your_ tragedy you're avenging?"

She didn't let him see her reaction, but the one she felt was strong. A visceral anger rushed over her from which she had to talk herself down. She couldn't let him get in her head. This was not the place, Combs was not the person, she would lash out against about her father - that was being saved for a day that would maybe never come. "I know about your friend," She revealed suddenly, hoping to distract him.

He wouldn't let her get into his head either, unfortunately. Laughing under his breath, he shook his head, saying, "You're deflecting."

"I need-"

"Which one?" He interrupted, allowing her to change the subject.

She believed this was a genuine hint rather than a false lead, which meant she was right: there _were_ multiple allies. "Who's the one with the cameras?"

That seemed to surprise him a little. He took some time to think on his answer, and murmured as he did, "I _should_ tell you that. I have no good will for them, and they would do the same to me." He started to wring his hands, taking a significant amount of time to contemplate all the possibilities.

With leverage and a decision, he looked back up at Andy. "I'll tell you who they are after President Warren calls for every android to be recycled and every employee at CyberLife to be put in prison," He ended his declaration with a smile, and mused, "I like orange jumpsuits too, Detective."

Something Sebastian said earlier clicked in Andy's mind, that Combs planned to leave on New Year's. It was an odd choice, given his world-changing goal was focused on the city, but it was starting to make sense. It was already safe to assume all these acts of protests were pressuring the president into fast action, his terrorism a method of showing her how much destruction would come if she continued to entertain equal rights - except now he finally had a date.

December 31st. And he had more friends out there to continue his work. Why give them up before then?

With that dead end, Andy knew their conversation was over. Getting up from the stage, she began again. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

He stood to his feet as she recited his rights, keeping his hands in front of him and his movement slow. His smile remained, as in his eyes, he was still winning. "I'm sure they'll be very unbiased," He commented, turning around to put his hands behind his back.

Minutes later, she was escorting him out of the church. They descended the stairs and SWAT rushed in to meet them at the pavement. They took custody of Combs and moved him to a secured vehicle, leaving her standing in the street as a bomb disposal unit rushed inside the church to do one final check of the premises.

Andy didn't quite know what to do now. Her role at the church was done, but her nerves were still on fire, and her mind was still racing. There were half a dozen places for her to be: she needed to call Natalie as Hank earlier suggested, she needed to talk to Hank, she needed to visit Gabriel Mateev, go to her appointment with Doctor Nazarian, update her report at work, take a shower, make dinner. She was spiralling, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to slow down.

Amid the chaos on the street, and in her mind, Connor emerged from the SWAT tent. He knew the look on her face well enough by now, and he approached her in fast strides. She didn't seem to notice him until he was standing right in front of her, when he slipped his arms under hers and leaned in to hug her. If she were in any other frame of mind, she would have considered how public the display was. Today, however, the chaotic swirl of her emotions seemed to come to a stop, even if only a brief one, when he held her. Clenching her fists around the fabric at his shoulders, she buried her face into the crook of his neck and closed her eyes.

* * *

Andy arrived to her appointment with Doctor Nazarian just as the office closed. It would seem acts of terrorism called for certain exceptions, however, because rather than kick her out, the doctor opened her door and let her inside. They were the only two remaining the building, Nazarian in her usual chair across from the couch to which Andy was growing all too familiar.

They stared at one another for a few minutes. Nazarian assumed Andy would want to lead this appointment, so she waited. When the detective crossed her arms over her chest, Nazarian decided that wouldn't be happening. "Busy day," She mused.

Andy quirked a brow. "Just a smidge."

Smiling, Nazarian asked, "Which part would you like to talk about first?"

There were too many parts to think about. Andy let her eyes wander around the room as she tried to pin down whatever hit her the most, but all roads led back to one. "The only good thing about Stewart is that he knows where he isn't wanted," She murmured, repeating the words she heard earlier that day. Looking to Nazarian, she clarified, "His step-sister said that."

"That stands out to you."

Andy shrugged. It did, but she didn't realize how much. "Shouldn't it? I mean, that's _layers_ of shit talking. There is literally so little about you that's good that you recognizing how much people hate you is the only thing anyone can say in your defense. You know what kind of person is worse than that? Dictators, that's who, and we write history books about why they suck. Congratulations, you're better than a dictator," She ranted.

Nazarian waited a second to make sure she was done. "You feel strongly about this."

"It may have sat with me for a while," Andy shrugged. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she leaned forward, asking, "Hey- how are you supposed to feel after you almost get blown up?"

This baffled the psychologist, who couldn't resist a huff of laughter. "You're not _supposed_ to feel any particular way. It's a traumatizing event. People respond in differ-"

"Yeah, people are unique, I get it," Andy interrupted, waving her hand in dismissal. Repositioning herself on the couch, she rested her elbows on her knees and gestured to herself. "I feel like I've consumed an entire store's supply of caffeine."

"That would be the adrenal-"

"I swear to god it's not," Andy snapped, holding out her hands in tension. It was as close to an outburst as she would have that day, and she held in a breath to calm down. "I know what adrenaline is. I know that's what my body was doing nine hours ago, but now my brain- it-" She couldn't figure out how to describe it without sounding ridiculous, so finally she decided to just settle for ridiculous. "I feel like the guy who thinks he can shoot a hurricane."

Nazarian furrowed her brows. "What?"

Andy threw out her hand as she described, "Every hurricane, there's a guy standing out in his front yard because he refused to evacuate. He knows what the hurricane is, he knows it'll probably kill him, but he's pissed and he's got a gun in his hand and he thinks, 'If I stand here and pretend to be a giant then maybe, just maybe, I can become one.'" She pointed at herself, finishing, "That's me. I'm that guy."

The room was silent as she waited for an explanation, and Nazarian speculated on all her theories. Crossing a leg over her knee, she finally asked, "Are you having trouble with your partner?"

Andy sputtered. She jutted her thumb out behind her, as if she could point at the trail of nonsense she'd left behind her, and asked, "How the hell did you get that from the bullshit I just said?"

With a dainty shrug, Nazarian explained, "If your partner wants to handle the situation differently than you do, perhaps more cautiously, that could make you feel reckless." She gestured forward, adding, "Like a man shooting a hurricane."

Andy found her tone almost amused, and faintly smug. "Shut up," Was all she could manage in rebuttal.

"Eloquent."

Releasing a heavy sigh, Andy fell against the couch. "He thought the FBI should take over and we should go back to normal," She complained.

"It sounds like he's trying to protect you both," Nazarian offered.

She wasn't wrong, but Andy didn't hate it any less. "You know what protects everyone? Catching the bad guy," She argued, throwing up a finger to add, "Which I did, by the way."

"I'm sure the FBI could have performed just as well as you did," The therapist mused.

Andy smirked at the door that had opened for her petty jab. "My personal experience with the FBI would suggest otherwise."

"Tell me what happened this morning."

It was an abrupt request, as per usual with her doctor. She really had to get used to Nazarian getting her comfortable before striking where it hurt. Her pleasant expression had fallen into something more somber, and she directed her eyes down to her hands in her lap. "A van blew up. We drove Kamski to the tower, had everything cleared before we even left the station, but apparently Combs got to it while it was parked in the garage," She explained, looking back up, "We were escorting Kamski to the van when the bomb went off."

"What was that like?" They maintained eye contact, but Nazarian noticed the detective's thoughts were starting to pull her away from the conversation. "Andy?"

"I don't remember," Andy finally confessed.

"What?"

She blinked, turning her head away in shame and frustration. "One minute I was walking to the van, the next I was on my ass. I don't remember the explosion."

It surprised Nazarian, but in her experience, it wasn't cause for much concern. "That's not uncommon. What _do_ you remember?"

Andy started to describe the flashes she had of that morning. "Hank pushed us to the ground. I had the wind knocked out of me. Couldn't hear anything. Bits of the van were falling from the sky. There was a-" She stopped, realizing the weight of her next sentence. _There was a hubcap behind me._ If she'd been one foot to the right, she would have been hit by it. On its own, that was nothing, but with the force of an explosion behind it, it would have been the end of her life.

She was a foot from death today.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wrapped up her story. "Fire Department got there in five minutes. Bomb squad, five after that."

Nazarian knew a piece was being left out, but wouldn't push for it when everything else was enough. "It sounds scary."

Andy cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. "Well we caught him, so...," She trailed off, unable to finish her claim. So what? Problem solved? It was over?

Her dilemma was an obvious one, and Nazarian offered a small smile. "But it didn't help, did it?"

No. It didn't. Andy frowned, complaining, "It's not like I pissed off the wrong guy at a bar, or crashed my bike into a tree. You can't fight back when it's a bomb. A gun, a knife-" With a loud huff, she said, "Shit, tie me up and put red ice in my veins, but a bomb? There's no chance against that. There's no human input that makes that easier to deal with."

"That's why we grieve," Nazarian replied. "Grieving for what goes wrong makes it easier to deal with. It's a part of moving on."

* * *

After Connor parted ways with Andy, he updated Jericho, who was glad everyone was unharmed and Combs was arrested, and he went home to check on Hank, who was sleeping in bed with beer cans scattered over the end table. Then he left to go to the hospital, with a small stop on the way. He approached the front desk and was told that Gabriel Mateev had been moved to the Intensive Care Unit, which had its own waiting room.

Andy was already inside, sleeping. Sunken into a couch against the far wall, she bent her knees and firmly planted her feet to the ground to hold her in place. Her arms were crossed underneath the blanket that was her jacket. It was the most peaceful he'd seen her all day, and he knew that would change the second she woke, so he took care to be quiet.

He crossed the room and gently lowered into place beside her, but the shift in the cushion was enough to disturb her. She inhaled a deep breath as she jolted awake, and Connor held out a hand over her to stop her from moving too much.

Seeing him, she pushed herself up in a better position. She rubbed at her eye, groggily asking, "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I had a suspicion this is where you'd be," He confessed with a small smile. With his other hand, he showed her a burger in a Chicken Feed wrapper. She laughed a little as he handed it to her, and he rested against the rear of the couch. "How is Gabriel?"

She bundled her jacket into her lap and was picking at the ends of the burger wrapper as she said, "He got out of surgery an hour ago." She propped an elbow up on the arm rest beside her. "His brother's flying in from Toledo after his shift. I thought someone should be here to meet him."

It didn't surprise him, but he didn't like she was pushing herself. She needed to be home right now, resting. "You're not responsible for what happened," He reminded her.

He was right, but it didn't make her feel any better. "Someone should be here," She repeated quietly.

He wouldn't press the argument. It was better she sit in a waiting room than keep working at the precinct. "Have you heard from anyone?"

She nodded, and the corner of her lips almost turned up in a lopsided grin. "Walsh called earlier. FBI's pretty pissed."

"I would imagine so."

Waving off the comment, she remarked, "They'll get Combs in the morning. I just wanted him first."

She definitely got that much. She'd already recounted her conversation with him so he could record the information, and while Combs never gave any solid answers, there was plenty to consider. "Do you believe what he said?"

"I figure he thinks we're so far behind him, it doesn't cost him anything to tell us the truth," She answered, pulling a piece of chicken off her burger for a small bite, "What sucks is, he's not totally wrong."

Connor didn't have the personal experience of watching Combs during the conversation, but he trusted Andy's instinct. Everything they discovered so far was a testament to how little they knew, so it wasn't a wild assumption. He had another suspicion sitting in the back of his mind, though: Sebastian Hewitt. All this time, Combs had never met the man, and yet today Hewitt was the single thread that allowed them to catch him. "I don't think him uniting with his father now is a coincidence."

Andy didn't seem surprised by the assertion. Instead, she lowered her voice and started, "Hewitt said Combs was already waiting at the station for him when he was arrested. Oak Park PD uses the same system as Detroit, and no one knows about an arrest until the offender's been processed." Looking up from her lap, she asked, "What does that sound like to you?"

Connor was staring at her hard now. What it _sounded_ like was an accusation, and a dangerous one. "Have you told anyone this?"

"Just you."

He took a moment to sit forward with his elbows on his knees. He leaned in until he was inches away from her, as if the walls could talk, and he whispered, "You need more to go on before you start pointing fingers at a cop."

She almost laughed. "I'm more worried about what happens if I'm right," She mumbled. It was a thought that was going to eat away at her until she was certain either way, and the worst part was that she didn't feel she could go to Hank. It wasn't a matter of trust - she trusted him to the ends of the universe - but a disillusioned detective was a bad match for a case of espionage. Trying to push it to the back of her mind for now, she asked Connor, "Have you talked to Markus?"

He would let her change the subject for now, deciding this kind of conversation would have to wait until they were somewhere more private, and preferably not on the same day of other traumatic events. "I was with Jericho this morning," He nodded, "They send their regards, by the way." She smiled, and he intertwined his fingers, continuing, "Everyone feels like CyberLife is one move away from attacking us, and I'm not confident enough to say they're not."

"And now the president's on a deadline," She murmured, her smile falling. "Do you think that's what our mystery man wanted?"

It was what Combs wanted, of that much they were sure. His other allies, however many there were, whoever they were, Connor couldn't say. "If not, they lost control of Stewart Combs even before he was arrested."

That wasn't a comforting thought, but the words _'he was arrested'_ sounded good - at least until Andy remembered what that meant for her tomorrow. That was a whole new fear. "Hank's gonna be furious," She whispered.

She was right; he was. Reaching out to lay a hand on her knee, Connor assured her, "I'll have your back." There was no sugarcoating the inevitable argument, but that didn't mean Connor would leave it all on her. He understood wanting to protect her, as he wanted to protect both of them, but she was a grown woman and a good detective. She found Combs twice in one day. Their concern, as great as it was, didn't surpass her abilities or desires. He learned that lesson, so Hank would have to as well.

Squeezing his grip on her, he asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Aside from bruised ribs and a ringing that makes me want to drive my head into a wall?" She retorted. In a surprising bout of honesty, she popped another torn piece of chicken into her mouth and answered, "Barely."

Exhaustion started to show through her veneer, and on top of that, she looked uncomfortable, so when the idea struck him, he jumped to his feet. "Scoot over." He ushered her to move down, to which she did without much question despite the confusion on her face. They switched places on the couch, putting Connor between her and the armrest. He turned so his shoulder pressed into the back of the couch and his leg hooked under his knee, and then placed his hands on her shoulder. "Okay."

He guided her to lower herself until she was laying on the couch and propped against him, a position significantly more comfortable than one he'd found her in. She said nothing at first, and he didn't know whether it was surprise, amusement, or nerves. After a moment, she re-opened her jacket and pulled it up over her again. As time went on, he felt her relax. That was what he would focus on.

"Connor." He glanced down at her, not that she could see it with her head on his chest. "Talk to me."

He realized how quiet the waiting room was - and how loud her ears had to be ringing in comparison. He moved an am up and around her shoulders, securing her in place. "What do you want to talk about?"

He could feel her shake her head. "Anything. Pancake recipes. Bird watching. I don't care," She insisted.

Well, he didn't have bird watching, but there was something persisting in the back of his mind. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he mumbled, "I'm worried I ruined a nine year old's birthday party."

There was only a short pause. "What?"

"When Combs fled, he cut through a yard with a party. He ran through the cake and I tackled him into a child's pool," He explained.

She craned her neck to look up at him with wide eyes. Seeing he was serious, her jaw dropped and she let out a breathy, "Holy shit."

A tinge of guilt flashed over his features. "I should apologize, right?" He asked.

His expression endeared her further, and she smiled through her bewilderment, both at him and the thought of the fight making its way through a child's birthday party. "I think you should just give them space," She advised.

Nodding, he replied, "Maybe you're right."

She returned into place on the couch, her smile lingering underneath the jacket she pulled up higher. A chuckle almost left her, shaking her shoulders slightly as she continued eating. Despite it being a somewhat cold dinner, the company of its gifter was making it better than anything else it could have been.

"It was pirate themed."

With that, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter that erupted from her throat.


	21. Ice and Chocolate

**December 3, 2038**

Hank didn't take the news well.

When Connor returned home after spending most of his night at the hospital, he found Hank awake and furiously pacing between the living room and the kitchen. It turned out Andy sending the FBI out of state while she went to apprehend their most wanted terrorist upset them, and they'd called Hank to personally congratulate him on closing the case. It was a loud and endless loop of an argument, and the closest Connor would ever come to experiencing a headache. Hank stormed out of the house, stumbling his way back inside a few short hours before the sun would rise.

As a predictable result, he missed his morning psych evaluation, which put him out of work for another twenty-four hours. Andy didn't even have time to worry, having to spend her day juggling Stewart Combs, the FBI, and the media frenzy brewing at the front of the department. It also gave her a reprieve from his threat to rid them of her SD card, and a chance to formulate a plan.

By the time Friday hit, Andy knew what she wanted to do, and she was a charged bundle of nerves. She needed to wear herself out, so she called up her old friend and headed for the gym.

She wasn't sure what time she left the apartment, but she knew she was one of the first customers to walk in. She worked out until the sun started shining through glass walls along the sidewalk outside. Once a trainer arrived, she jumped into the small ring set up in the middle of the building, and she didn't bother holding back against the well-built professional.

At some point, Desta Delgado arrived, but it wasn't long before Andy approached the bench where her gym bag sat.

"Wait, are you leaving? I thought you were gonna teach me something today!"

Andy looked over her shoulder at the DDA, who'd already broken a sweat on the treadmill. Unzipping her bag, she grinned and replied, "Don't be late next time."

Delgado pouted, picking up her water bottle. "I had some last-minute paperwork. Come on, we just got started."

"_You_ just got started. I've been here all morning," Andy teased, dabbing her towel at the sweat on her neck. She wouldn't have minded dedicating another few hours to the gym, but she had somewhere to be. "Besides, I have a date tonight."

It was like dangling bait in front of a starving fish. Delgado lowered herself onto the bench, eyes glued on Andy. She gave an interested hum before asking, "Who's the unlucky person?"

Andy shoved her towel back into the bag and delivered a pointed stare at the casual jab. It was a lazy attempt for information Delgado had to know she wouldn't be getting any time soon. Relationship talk between them always happened slowly, if at all. The fact the _unlucky person_ was Connor, not just an android but a de facto co-worker, made things even more complicated. "I plead the Fifth," Andy finally brushed off.

Unsatisfied but unwilling to push for more information, Delgado shrugged and looked away. "Fine. But good for you." At the detective's skepticism, she insisted, "Really, I mean it. You deserve to treat yourself."

Andy couldn't say she agreed with that. A lot of the recent chaos were designs of her own making - she wanted to go undercover, which put her on Sharon Weaver's radar, and she pushed herself into the deviant investigation, which put her in the direct path of Internal Affairs and Stewart Combs. She wasn't comfortable thinking she 'deserved' anything after that. These were doubts she'd keep to herself, already imagining the potential lecture Delgado would throw at her otherwise.

Turning to sit on the bench beside her friend, she decided it was best to move on to other business. "There's another reason I wanted to meet here," She began, speaking under her breath. Clapping her hands together and resting her elbows on her knees, she said, "I want to talk about Arthur Vick."

Delgado's brows dipped in confusion. "The IA agent?"

Andy nodded. "You said he was new to the city."

"He moved here last August."

"What do you know about him?"

It'd been weeks since he was a problem, and bringing him up now worried Delgado. With a sharp sigh, she explained, "His mother's with the NCA in England, his father's retired FBI. He went to Cambridge, then the UN's Court of Justice until he moved to Atlanta for the CDC. Then he came here."

She rattled off his credentials like it was nothing, and it only reinforced the impression that she was leery of him. Andy wanted to know why. "And now he works Internal Affairs. Sounds a bit like a downgrade, doesn't it?"

Delgado shrugged. "Which is why he makes me uncomfortable. Guys like that aren't looking to settle down, they're trying to make waves."

Andy wondered if there was more, but believed the answer to be genuine. As inconvenient as he may have been for the DA's office, a guy wanting to make waves sounded exactly like who she needed. "He's good, though. You said he's good?"

Narrowing her eyes, Delgado was reluctant to admit the truth. "Very. Why are you asking?"

"I need a meeting with him. And I need you to set it up," Andy mused with a faint grin, fully aware of the weight of the favor she was calling in.

Delgado didn't react right away. Her friend was bold and often times prone to make waves herself, but never without a reason. "You don't want the department to know."

Andy shook her head. "I do not."

"Will you tell me why?"

"No."

After another moment of internal debate, Delgado gave in and nodded. "I'll give him a call." Pulling her lips into a sweet smile, she leaned forward and added, "Because I trust you, and I'm a good friend who supports your decisions."

With a snort, Andy grabbed the strap of her gym bag and stood to her feet. "Still not telling you who I'm seeing tonight."

Delgado scoffed, watching her walk away toward the doors. "Be here next weekend?" She called before they were too far apart.

"Be on time," Andy yelled back, throwing a hand over her hand to give half a wave.

* * *

On Thursday, the precinct had been left suffocating under the stress of its workload. On Friday, the scene had changed completely. The lobby was almost empty, save for the secretary at the desk who smiled and nodded as Andy walked into the building. The relaxed chatter in the bullpen behind the space divider indicated everyone else was also in a decent mood. Not having the FBI breathing down their necks, or a terrorist in their jail cells, was like a breath of fresh air.

A familiar face entered the lobby to speak with the secretary, and stopped at the end of the front desk to prop himself up on its surface. "Hey, Andy. Way back from the gym?" Wilson asked, gesturing to the gym bag hanging from her shoulder.

Andy nodded, approaching him. "Yep. How's it going?"

"Better than yesterday," He joked, eyes drifting away as a thought struck him, "And the day before. And, like... all of November."

She managed a breathy chuckle, knowing that the bliss would be short-lived if her suspicions were correct. Reaching into her bag, she began, "Well hey, I forgot to bring some paperwork in for the Ferguson case. Can you get that to Reed for me?"

She pulled out a folder and handed it off to Wilson, who nodded and kicked off the desk. "Sure thing."

"Thanks. See you tomorrow," She replied, following him through the bullpen a short distance before parting from him for the bathroom.

Wilson turned and made his own way across the public workspace. He stopped at a desk on the opposite side of the room, where Gavin Reed was typing into a file on his computer. He looked up at the shadow suddenly cast over him, and found Wilson displaying a folder. "Detective Hope brought in something for the Ferguson case," Wilson told him, tossing it onto the desk.

Reed stared at him a moment longer - the Ferguson case was almost closed by now, and Andy had nothing to do with it after the first day. Deciding this wasn't a joke, one that Wilson was in on at least, he gave a subtle nod in response. As Wilson walked away, Reed leaned back in his chair and grabbed the folder to peek inside. He closed it a second later, dropping it into a bottom drawer and returning to his previous task at the computer.

Around four minutes passed.

Closing the window he was working on, Reed sat up and stretched. He swept his arm around for the drawer where he'd placed Andy's folder, and in the process, his elbow bumped into a nearby coffee mug on the desk. He started to feign anger as it rocked off balance, but the hours-old coffee was on a trajectory he hadn't anticipated. Rather than simply overflow to the floor, it splashed across his jeans, and he jerked his chair back in much more genuine frustration. Someone walking by stopped and offered to take care of the spill while he cleaned himself up. Waving at them and muttering half a thanks, he stood and stormed across the bullpen to the bathroom.

Andy was waiting inside against the counter when he sulked in from around the corner of the wall. She looked up at him, and her eyes immediately darted down to the dark spot across his thighs. She struggled to prevent the smile pulling at her lips, even more so after she met his dark pout.

"I was aiming for my shoes," He muttered.

The petulant tone ensured she would fail at hiding her glee. Smiling wide now, she informed, "You missed."

His face sharpened into a glare aimed at her, but he chose not to respond. Walking over to the edge of the counter, he unlocked the maintenance cabinet on the wall and retrieved a roll of paper towels. "So should I be going to HR?" He finally asked, beginning to pat at himself to dry his pants. Catching the disgusted scowl on Andy's face in response, he stopped to throw up a defensive hand. "What, am I not supposed to joke about us meeting in a fuckin' bathroom? Why are we meeting in a bathroom?"

She shrugged and answered, "No security cameras in the bathroom."

He slowed down, gawking at her. She'd said it casually, as if that was a normal thing one would consider for a work conversation. "Should I be going to HR?" He repeated, a little more serious than the last time.

Her scoff was audible, and if he listened hard enough, he imagined he could have heard her rolling her eyes, too. "I need you to look into something for me. Quietly," She explained. The air in the bathroom was taking a grim turn as she went on. "Combs wasn't acting alone, and I think whoever he was working for has a contact in-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Reed interjected, waving a hand full of crumpled tissues. He clenched his eyes shut to process the bomb she'd tossed on him; he was _so_ close to having a normal work day again. Turning toward her, he asked, "Rewind that and pretend like you just said something important. Combs has a partner?"

She tilted her head and shrugged, "I'm not sure partner's the right word, but yeah."

"How the hell do you know this?"

There was a small pause before she answered, knowing it would set off alarm bells. It should do that - this whole thing was a suspicious mess - but she needed him to listen to everything before dismissing her. "I was given an SD card with thousands of files on it, including personnel records and security footage, and it wasn't made by Combs."

If she was telling him the truth, and not playing a bad prank, she had something in her possession that was not only powerful enough to bring down a city, but illegal enough to possibly send everyone who knew about it away for a long time. He knew that, logically, but his head was unable to wrap itself around those ramifications. "Who gave it to you?"

Another pause, a little longer than the last. "Sharon Weaver."

The name pulled a harsh laugh from his throat. "Sharon Weaver!" He repeated, throwing up a hand as he shifted away in disbelief. He was quick to regain his composure, spinning around to argue, "And how do we know she isn't the one responsible for it?"

Andy shook her head, retorting, "We don't know that, but can we move off the first part of this story? The second part's worse."

"What could _possibly_ be worse?"

She met his gaze with a hard frown. "I think they're getting information from someone in the department."

Yeah, okay. That was worse.

He looked to the trashcan to throw out his paper towels, and then took slow steps toward her. Stopping next to her, he turned on the closest faucet and placed his hands on the counter-top, leaning over the sink. "There's a mole," He echoed under his breath.

"Yes."

"In the DPD."

"I'm asking you to look into it."

He lifted his head to find his reflection in the mirror. She was facing the opposite direction, watching the stalls. With a huff, he complained, "Why me?"

Her shoulders went up in a shrug. "Because all the people in the middle of this are probably being watched, and you're the last one anyone would suspect to help Jericho."

She was right, which is why he was having a quiet but confusing mental breakdown. "And how do you know _I'm_ not the rat?" He sneered.

"You might be an anti-android dick, but you're also not stupid."

"Thanks, that's real swell of you-"

She turned her head, cutting him off, "You were my first partner." He could see the side of her face in the mirror, and as annoyed as she looked, there was also a staunch conviction. They may not have been good friends, or known much about each other's personal lives, but she was right. Your first partner meant something, and when shit hit the fan, you went to the first person you could trust.

"Shit," He huffed, his shoulders dropping at the realization he wasn't walking out of here with clean hands.

"I've got someone I think I can take this to, but I need evidence," She explained before tilting her head back to get a better angle of his expression. "So are you going to help me out or not?"

"Yeah, all right? I'll...," He sighed. "Where the hell do I even start?"

"Oak Park PD's arrest of Sebastian Hobbs. Other than that, look for suspicious and sleazy," She told him. Pushing off the counter, she started to pass him on her way to the entrance. She stopped to shoot him a smirk, musing, "You know it well."

Irritation flashed on his face, though it didn't carry much weight. "Yeah, that's- That's great. Way to treat the guy doing you a favor," He complained, slapping the faucet to turn off the water. Before she was gone, he called out to her and waited for her to turn back. "Just so we're clear, if you're wrong about this and someone finds out what I'm doing, I become the most hated guy on the force." Pointing at her, he quickly glared and added, "And don't say I'm already the most hated guy on the force."

She snorted, but not at his own self-deprecating jab. Wrapping her hand around the strap of her gym bag, she warned him, "Reed, if someone finds out what you're doing, you won't _be_ on the force anymore." She let the words sink in before saying, "But if I'm right, there's a dirty cop out there."

He was quiet at that, trying to make his brain truly grasp the severity of what they were talking about. Returning to the cabinet on the wall, he slammed it shut and shot her a long look. "You better be right."

* * *

After missing his psych evaluation, Hank had to reschedule his appointment.

He was fine with paid leave until he could meet the usual guy - Evans didn't ask too many questions or analyze too many answers - but the captain gave him a clear ultimatum. He'd get evaluated by the end of the week, or he'd be suspended. He played along with the threat, and the last minute scheduling left him with limited options of available psychologists. Ending up at the office of a therapist he'd never heard of until now put him in a foul mood.

Foul_er_ mood, anyway.

He wasn't stupid. His evaluation had less to do with the car bomb, and more to do with his recent behavior. Everyone noticed it. They shouldn't have, considering he'd been this way for years, but he supposed since Connor showed up and Andy returned, he'd started acting a little different. Putting in more of an effort. This was a bad influence, he decided. Good things don't last, and it was only a matter of time until life went back to normal. People should have expected this, he thought.

The waiting room was surprisingly comfortable, decorated in soothing colors and Jazz memorabilia. He probably would have gotten along with this doctor in a different setting, but as it was, he felt a bit like a hostage. He glared at the old-school record on the wall across from him, able to see his grumpy and haggard reflection in the glass frame.

"Lieutenant Anderson?"

He blinked out of his downward spiral and turned to Dema Nazarian standing in the doorway to her office. She'd been watching him, if the curious concern on her face was anything to go by. How many times had she called his name, he wondered?

She didn't press him on it, to her credit. Nodding her head toward her office, she urged him to follow. "Come in, Hank."

* * *

The last date Andy could remember being on was when she was fresh out of the police academy.

Back then, she was more concerned with securing a position on the force than she was having a good time with her boyfriend, and it had been a forgettable night at best. While Connor was now exploring a new part of his life and trying to understand how it worked, her own relationship experiences had been primarily negative, and left her as much a stranger to this as he was. It made her nervous she was committing the same sins again, and she wanted to get it right with him.

She was also over-thinking it, so she rushed through getting ready in order to leave her apartment as soon as possible.

Arriving at Hank's, she skipped over the steps leading up to the porch and reached out to knock on the door. She almost didn't have to wait at all before the door swung open. Connor stood on the other side, and his eagerness to see her brought a small smile to her face. He faltered somewhat as if embarrassed, but she said nothing about it.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You ready?" She asked, pointing to her bike with her thumb. He nodded and reached for the beanie on the end table by the door. Securing it over his head and the LED at his temple, he started to step out onto the porch, but she glanced into the living room. "Is Hank not here?"

He quietly shut the door behind him, saying, "He left twenty minutes ago." He was hesitant to talk too much about the lieutenant. It was a sensitive topic for a multitude of reasons, and he didn't want to upset her. After all, his goal for the night was to show her she'd made a good decision in pursuing a relationship with him. That mattered less when he saw her struggling to appear nonchalant, likely to hide the concern that Hank had left because he knew she was coming. "He'll come around," He tried assuring her.

"Maybe," She murmured. Shaking her head to clear herself of her worries, she declared, "I don't wanna think about it." That was fine with him, and he followed her down the porch steps. Pulling her keys from her pocket, she let them jingle in her hands as she asked, "So where to?"

"Actually-" He stopped, watching her near her bike. With a small smile, he added, "I'd like to drive."

She looked over her shoulder, brow quirked. "You know how to drive a bike- I realize how stupid that question was as I asked it," She cut herself off and tossed the keys over her head. He chuckled, catching them with ease as he approached. She waited for him to get situated and start the engine before she threw her leg over the back and placed herself behind him. Helmets secured, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in as he took off out of the driveway.

* * *

It wasn't a long ride to their destination, but Andy's curiosity made it feel like she'd been waiting an hour. She tried to guess where they were headed, and all she could say for sure was that they'd gone into Ferndale. It was busier than usual, considering the holidays were fast approaching and the entertainment side of the city was a hot-spot on weekend evenings.

She remained in the dark as Connor pulled into a parking garage, and found a safe place to park. Lowering the kickstand, he cut off the engine and waited for Andy to climb to her feet. Removing her helmet, she turned and watched him do the same. "I don't suppose you'd tell me what the plan is if I asked?"

He glanced to her from the side of his eyes, enjoying the mystery while it lasted. "You'd be correct."

"A hint at least?" She requested.

"That isn't necessary," He chuckled, taking her helmet off her hands to store it under the bike seat.

She watched him turn and begin walking toward the entrance, and she scoffed. "You're enjoying this too much." Catching a sight of his expression, she pointed, exclaiming, "I see you smiling!"

After catching up to his side, they left the parking garage and he led her along the sidewalk. They walked no more than four small blocks before they turned the corner and came out to the Ferndale City Park.

Less of a park and more of a city square, the space had been used in public events run by the metropolis of Detroit and its neighbors for years. One of the most popular events was the Winter Festival, which was home to local vendors, good food, art shows, musical acts, festival games, and a large outdoor skating rink surrounding a small gazebo.

With everything going on, Andy had completely forgotten about the festival. It appeared as though recent events had gotten to everyone; the decorations this year were somewhat dull relative to its past, leading her to believe the event may have narrowly escaped being cancelled at the last minute. Strings of lights intertwined in the branches of scattered trees, community-made snow sculptures lined the sidewalks, and cheerful holographic images decorated the walls of surrounding buildings. Somewhere music played from a DJ system, and faintly danced through the entirety of the park.

"How am I doing?" Connor was still beside her, attempting to gauge her reaction. He could read her surprise, but was unable to tell if it was working in his favor or against it.

She noticed the stare, and picked up on the apprehension behind it. The delight that came with knowing he cared so much about her opinion was fleeting, and it was replaced by a concern that their nerves would overshadow the rest of the night. More than that, she didn't want the relationship they already had to be overtaken by uncertainty. She was there with him because he made her feel safe and comfortable - made her feel valued - and she wanted the same for him.

She wanted to get it right.

Jumping off the curb in front of her, she started to cross the street. She twirled on her heel to walk backwards and face him, hoping her response to his search for approval would soothe them both. "That depends on how well you skate," She mused with a challenging smirk.

He took the bait, perhaps knowingly, and followed her toward the rink with a new grin. They rented skates at the stand nearby, and moved to the side out of the way of others. Andy dropped to the ground to replace her shoes while Connor remained standing. They talked about the sights, made declarations of interest regarding the different festival stations - he had his eye on a small crafts shop being set up, and she wanted to track down the source of the caramel she could smell wafting over from the crowds.

Once she was finished putting on her skates, she lifted her arms into the air and he joined hands with her, pulling her to her feet. She leaned back to straighten herself out, but quickly began to lose her balance in the aforementioned direction. She reached behind her to slap her hand against the wall of the rink for support, and Connor was even faster, catching her by the waist before she could sink any further toward the ground.

They didn't move right away, Andy taking a moment to gather herself. Connor's brows raised in a silent but playfully charged question, and she pursed her lips upon spotting his face. "It's been a while," She confided, moving her hand away from the wall to use him as support instead.

As they pulled apart, he hummed, "I was hoping that would be the case."

Her jaw dropped somewhat, feeling the flattened palm of his hand brush across her lower back seconds before he'd let her go. He turned his back toward her, leaving her there so he could reach for his second skate. She watched him kneel down to slip his foot inside it, and he looked back at her only briefly, but she _swore_ she saw a smirk.

Okay. Connor had game.

He was the first to enter the cold arena, and offered her a hand to help her over the ledge. With an amused grin betraying her accusatory eyes, she accepted the help and followed him into the rink. He pulled her further in, and started gaining speed for the both of them.

For a while, that was how they stayed, Connor guiding backward as Andy let herself drift after him at a steady pace. Growing accustomed to being on skates again, she finally let go of his hand and moved on her own. He slowed down enough to give her time to catch up to his side, shifting out of her way.

With a small shake that quickly grew into something far less stable, she bent forward and grabbed the wall again. She could see Connor slide into view in front of her, and she could feel his smirk before she actually caught sight of it. Looking up at him with a grin of her own, she pointed at his face. "Shut up."

Chuckling, he tilted his head down and asked, "When exactly was the last time you went skating?"

That had her snapping up in an instant. Straightening her back, she widened her eyes and asked, "Are you talking shit about my sick skills?"

He couldn't have believed she was offended even if he wanted to, and the snort he gave suggested as much. He kicked off to move backwards again, replying, "I would if you had any."

She let out a loud gasp, watching him glide away from her. "Plot twist, you're an asshole!" She exclaimed after him, finally moving again to skate alongside the wall for the time being. Giving herself a bit more force in her strides, she jerked her chin upward and bragged, "All right, big guy, just you wait. My unmatched skating _prowess_ is gonna humiliate you in a minute."

In one big push, he was skating past her, and he made a show of rotating to face her as he went along. "By falling on me?" He whispered, stopping behind her.

She threw her head to the side to shoot him an empty glare, threatening, "Keep it up and I'll take us both down."

His hands went to her sides, and she lifted her own to meet them there. They started the process again, Connor pushing her along and keeping her balanced. They lapped the rink a few times, going a little faster after each successful circle and resetting whenever she stumbled. Eventually they were passing the others on the outer edge of the rink, so they moved further in toward the center, and he let go of her.

Despite the friendly goading, they were both patient and content. As families and younger couples came and went, they stayed in their zone. It was a new activity for Connor and he was enjoying it, and Andy liked almost anything that required a physical effort. It was a sort of cleansing for them, to let go of the week's stress and have a good time - something that had been rare lately.

They also found another benefit of being in the rink. Going at their own pace side-by-side allowed them a modicum of privacy, and an opportunity to talk about all the pointless little things that filled the space between important moments. They talked about Andy getting ready to store her bike away as the weather got worse, and Connor walking Sumo every night after Hank went to bed. They talked about the expensive coffee shop across the street from the precinct, and the prank war that was brewing within SID. What little they could, because of his lack of experience with them and her lack of time to enjoy them, they talked about books and movies and sports. They made plans to catch up on those sorts of things.

At one point, he slowed down to turn and ask her a question, but she hadn't been expecting the sudden change. She tried to stop, wobbling in the process and latching onto the arm he was extending toward her for support. "I got you," He assured her. He waited for her to catch her footing before he pulled away and slipped his hand into hers. "Come on."

They maneuvered around other skaters and went further into the rink, nearing the gazebo in the center. The walls were set up atop an elevated curb, but the floor of the structure was part of the rink, allowing people to skate inside. He headed for the closest opening and came to a stop at the edge, pulling her in with him. She had more momentum from it than expected, and knocked face-first into his form. He grabbed her hips to stop her while her hands went to his shoulders, and they spun out, ending up with his back pressed against a column holding up the gazebo's roof.

Their proximity was noticed by passersby. Before they could even react to themselves, they were interrupted by children skating by making kissing noises. Their father shushed them, pushing them along, but the two of them had already taken fire. They watched the group until they disappeared behind the wall of the gazebo, feeling a bit bewildered by the sudden attention on them.

Andy recovered quickly. Looking up at Connor, she grinned and said, "I think I'm getting back into the groove of this."

"I've had to catch you three times," He retorted, seamlessly returning to their conversation.

The corner of her lips twitched, and she leaned away from him. "The _audacity_ you're laying on me right now is only a little attractive, I'll have you know," She informed with the quirk of her brow.

"But it _is_ attractive," He teased, though he was beaming at her comment.

CyberLife had designed him to look friendly and unassuming, but he had never given it much more thought beyond that. He supposed a part of him didn't want to. No one had total control over their appearance, but with androids, it was even less so. Physically speaking, there were carbon copies of him out there. Markus was the only unique one, and even his face was meticulously sculpted from Kamski's imagination. Humans were random, and organic. Andy being beautiful was a little different than whatever he thought he was.

But the way she talked about it, the way she called him attractive - as if it had more to do with _him_ and less to do with engineers in a room somewhere - pleased him a great deal.

He almost missed it by being so deep in his own thoughts, but something over his shoulder in the rink caught Andy's eye. It was for just a split second, but it brought out a smirk that _definitely_ meant she was up to something. He started to call it out, when she moved forward and kissed him.

Immediately he lost interest in questioning her motives. They hadn't done this since four days ago in her living room, and it felt as overwhelming as the first time. How something so simple could stop his thoughts in their tracks and create a stream of new sensations and emotions was beyond his understanding. All he knew was that he wanted to cling to that moment as long as she'd let him.

She couldn't know she had this power. She'd win _every_ argument.

Before he could spin off into that thought, she moved a little closer, and his mind went to a blank space he didn't know he could go to without going on standby. He leaned into her and was travelling his hands up her back when shouts of, '_Ew!_' and childish laughter rang out beside him. He couldn't bring himself to care, but she was unable to resist a small laugh, which rumbled against his own lips before she finally made a slow retreat. She looked to the same children they'd seen earlier in amusement as they did another lap around the gazebo, but Connor's dazed eyes stayed on her.

* * *

After getting his world ripped to shreds in the bathroom, Reed proceeded through his work day as normal.

As normal as possible. In the quiet downtime between tasks, he eyed his coworkers with a sickening level of suspicion. He didn't personally like many of the people in the precinct, but at one time, he would have trusted any of them to have his back in the field. That was fundamental to their careers, and now that had been shaken. Trust was required, but not inherent.

There were reasons to not listen to Andy, of course. It was a big risk to his career, and he had more ambition than anything else. It could have been a misunderstanding - being undercover for so long was bound to make you see enemies where there were none. It was dangerous, if Combs was anything to go by.

Despite all of that, Andy was a good detective, and for the same reason she confided him, he would choose to rely on her judgment. This was why, twenty minutes after his shift was over, he was walking into the Oak Park Police Department. It was a much smaller precinct than Detroit's central station, and the cluttered bullpen was in plain sight over the shoulder of the secretary at the front desk.

She didn't look away from her computer until Reed was standing in front of her. "Can I help you?" She droned, making it clear she hoped the answer would be short.

Reed ignored the tone, lifting the edge of his jacket enough to flash his DPD badge. "I need to talk to someone about an arrest," He explained. He waited for a response, but the secretary raised her brows, quietly urging him to give more information. "Sebastian Hewitt?"

There was a hefty sigh that followed. She recognized the name, and didn't need to look in the database to know who Reed wanted to talk to. "That'd be Brooks. He just went on break."

With a shrug, he grinned and shifted to rest his elbow on the ledge of the desk. "I'll wait here."

"Great," She grumbled, returning to her work.

He watched her a moment, letting her settle into the comfort of silence - and then he broke it. "What's he like?"

"Brooks?" The secretary shook her head, still typing into her keyboard. "He's fine."

Leaning in, he grinned and gestured toward her. "Come on, between you and me."

He could tell he was starting to get on her nerves, but to her credit, she persisted. "I don't know him that well," She disregarded him, shaking her head.

Shrugging, he looked away and examined the bullpen. Most of their equipment were 'gifts', glorified hand-me-downs from Detroit's ever advancing technologies. That had to be a sore subject. "So this is Oak Park PD, huh? Bit smaller than I'm used to," He commented, before nudging a finger out to point and joke, "I bet you guys are still on old school evidence collection, aren't you?"

She ignored the condescending question.

"You should see how we do it back in the city," He continued with an arrogant smirk. Slapping a hand down on the ledge, he feigned being struck with an idea. "Hey, are yo-"

In one smooth shift, the secretary looked up at him and adopted a polite tone to suggest, "Why don't you wait for Brooks at his desk? It's all the way in the back. Way... in the back."

He rose a brow and straightened to gesture to himself. "Really, you won't mind?"

She shook her head, trying not to appear too eager. "Make yourself at home."

With that, Reed entered the bullpen. After spotting the right nameplate, he made a casual approach toward the empty desk, holding himself as though he belonged in the space. He glanced around at nearby officers as he fell into the chair, and let it spin to get a full view of the room. No one noticed he was there, or cared if they had, so he slid to a stop once he was facing the desk.

He lowered a hand and subtly opened each drawer, sifting through old paperwork, various office supplies, and a broken tablet. There was nothing he found that he believed to be noteworthy. Closing the last drawer, he relaxed in the chair and tapped his fingers on the top of his knees. Sparing the bullpen another cautious check, he then turned his attention to the desk surface.

There wasn't much left out in the open. An old coffee mug sat in front of the monitor, with a case folder next to it. A fast food wrapper was balled up in the corner, and loose pens were strewn around. The most interesting thing was the mouse-pad with a 2038 calendar printed on it. Reed hadn't seen a mouse-pad since his college days - most consoles were either touch screens or holographic now, but even the classic inputs hadn't entertained their use for some time. Curiously he pulled at it, almost out of nostalgia more than anything, and in doing so, he caught sight of a slip of paper underneath it.

A phone number with a Detroit area code had been scribbled in haste. Whether it wound up hidden by accident or out of deceit, it was good enough a clue for Reed. He copied the number into his phone and fixed the scene to cover up his tampering. Giving the place one final glance, he stood and headed for the front of the department.

The secretary heard him approaching, and lost her cool upon noticing it was him. "Oh for fuc-"

He didn't give her a chance to release her frustrations on him, holding up his phone as he darted for the front door. "Work never stops, right?" He forced a laugh, pushing the door open as he told her, "I'll stop by later."

"Please don't," He vaguely heard her mumble in response before he was out the door.

Descending the steps toward the sidewalk, he called the number he'd collected from Brooks' desk. He'd parked a few blocks away, in case of... the worst possible outcome, he supposed. Now he kept his head down and blended into the scattered foot traffic of Oak Park, and was headed toward the car as his phone rang.

It was a lengthier wait than he was used to, but when someone finally answered, he heard a familiar voice on the other end. "Hello?"

Reed came to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, earning the ire of the person behind him. "Miller?" He stressed, moving to the side.

"Who is this?"

He scoffed, almost taking more offense to the question than his paranoia that Chris Miller was the mole. "Who- It's Reed."

"Oh. Hey," Miller greeted, friendly and unassuming of what was going on in Reed's head. His voice turned confused, though, as he asked, "Why are you calling a payphone?"

Payphone? Who the hell still used payphones? And _where_?

Miller had answered the call, though, which reminded Reed that the DPD had public phones in their stations. "The one in the lobby?" He asked.

"Yeah. I forgot we even had these things."

It made Reed feel slightly better about the call, but only slightly. Why did an Oak Park officer have the number to the DPD's payphone? The secretaries and desk sergeant would notice a suspicious conversation going on in their lobby, but if that conversation was happening after the front desk was closed... Clearing his throat, Reed rushed to end the call. "Yeah, me too. Uh, I think I dialed the wrong number. Don't worry about it."

Miller wasn't convinced, but also wasn't going to question a superior officer. "Sure... Detective," He murmured before the line went dead.

* * *

"Do you celebrate any of these holidays?"

Andy and Connor had abandoned the rink in favor of browsing the rest of the festival. They walked along the edge of the main park path, watching others shop at vendor stands or partake in the games. Neither were too interested in joining; Connor quickly surmised the games were rigged, and Andy knew her competitive streak would keep them hostage there for hours if she made any attempts to play.

In between the different stands were displays and decorations recognizing various winter holidays. Andy assumed they had attracted Connor's eye, and it led him to asking her about her own celebrations, regarding which she had little to say.

"Even before the task force, I was too wrapped up in work. My last-" She grimaced, catching herself in the middle of her sentence. Her last boyfriend decorated the apartment one year, she was going to say, and she hadn't noticed until he was taking down the tree. It was a rough memory, and one that didn't need to be mentioned. Shaking her head, she corrected course and hoped he wouldn't push too much. "I just haven't given it much thought lately."

He noticed her veering away from whatever train of thought she'd had, but he let it go. "Would you like to change that?" He asked.

Looking up at him, Andy rose a brow in faint surprise. "Are _you_ interested in it?"

He was, in fact. Life was new to him, and he wanted plenty of experiences, and he knew the humans' holidays would be overwhelming the city soon. With a small shrug, he started to ramble off his thoughts, "In a way, though I haven't thought about celebrations like this. I know some of them are religious, but most seem to have lost their original meanings and become superficial traditions now. They're excuses to enjoy uncommon leisure."

Andy rolled her eyes, but her smile softened the reaction. "God, you sound like my mom-" Holding up a finger, she added, "-Who is very much into all of this, if that dinner and the invitation to the Nutcracker didn't clue you in."

As they came to a stop in front of a stand selling hats and scarves, his mind went to the invitation he'd received a few days ago. Natalie was planning one big night, and she wanted them to be a part of it. "I assume that will be the limit of any festivities Hank will agree to," He mused, still surprised the lieutenant had even committed to that much. Even if it _was_ Natalie asking, his recent behavior mixed with the melancholy the holidays carried seemed as though they would have been a rather significant deterrent.

She picked up a scarf that caught her eye as she hummed. "You would probably be right. I heard last winter, he shot one of those LED reindeer they put up at Capitol Park." Connor was less than thrilled with this story, and at his expression, she shrugged, "Ask Wilson. He'll tell you all about it."

He watched her put on the scarf, which was bright red and matched her beanie and boots. He liked it because it looked like her, and that led him to a more anxious line of thought. "Will Natalie be expecting gift-giving?"

"Only from her," She was quick to dispel any possible concerns that he was doing something wrong. Shaking her head, she assured him, "Don't worry about it. Just show up, and she'll be happy."

He smiled a little at that. "Just her?"

The question yanked at her attention, but the surprise soon became a flirtatious grin. "I could be persuaded," She teased.

Her ringing phone interrupted the moment. When she pulled it from her pocket, he spotted Desta Delgado's name on the screen. "I'll be right back," She told him, transferring the scarf to his neck. Giving his shoulder a light, affectionate squeeze, she walked past him in the direction of the park bathrooms.

In the nook that led to the bathroom doorways was a bench against the wall. It was out of view and away from potentially prying ears, while still giving her a vantage point of her surroundings. She was vaguely berating herself in the back of her mind for even taking the call as she sat down and answered her phone. "Hey."

"How's the date?" Delgado sang her unofficial greeting.

"It'd be better without the interruption," Andy retorted, hoping Delgado would drop it there.

The DDA would keep it short, then. "Well I have news, so deal with it," She muttered with a small sigh, "First thing: Arthur Vick has a lunch in two days with the DA. I'm going to catch him afterward to mention you."

"All right, but that feels like something you could have told me tomorrow. What's the second thing?" Andy pressed.

That was where Delgado paused. After some rustling of papers, she said, "Jason Hart wants to plead guilty and go straight to sentencing. No trial, no bargain, no new lawyers."

An uneasiness settled into the pit of Andy's stomach. On the surface, and to outsiders, Jason not wanting to go to trial would seem a good thing. The legal portion of the case would be over, and he would be dealt with. The problem was that he wasn't the kind of person to go down so easily. Something was amiss, and the fact Delgado felt it too assured Andy she wasn't being paranoid. "He's been fighting from the start. Why the hell would he do that now?"

"No one knows, which is why it's news," Delgado murmured. "He might realize he doesn't have any options, or he has one we don't know about. Needless to say, we're going to be pulling all-nighters over this. The office ordered pizza," She ended in a chipper tone, but it was short-lived as she proceeded to offer a serious warning, "Don't let it ruin your date, but be prepared for trouble."

Andy almost rolled her eyes, dipping her head against the wall behind her. "Prepared for trouble is my default at this point."

Delgado turned to sympathy, with a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry. Should I have waited till tomorrow?"

"No. Not when it comes to Hart." As much as she wished she didn't answer the phone, Andy also wanted to be constantly up to date on everything concerning her old work. She may have not have been with SID anymore, but she'd put too much of her life into ensuring they stopped as much of the Weavers' red ice trade as possible. She'd given up a lot, and now it was personal.

She sighed, and tried to move away from the spiral she was going down. "Keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course." She could hear Delgado's smile as the woman added, "Have fun."

With an amused huff, Andy ended the call. She put her phone away and sat on the bench for another few seconds, letting the news process before she would push it to the back of her mind. It would not be an easy task with her stomach already twisting into an anxious knot, but the knowledge that Connor was waiting for her made it a little easier.

"Andrea!"

A familiar face had emerged from the bathroom, thoroughly ripping away whatever peace Andy was managing to find. "M- Mrs. Richards," She stuttered, instinct pulling her to her feet, "It's been a while, Ma'am."

Aside from a few white strands contrasting against black hair, Ishani Richards hadn't changed at all since the last time they met. She stood tall and poised, looking slightly indifferent, even when she wasn't in her work robes. They thought well of each other, and their relationship went as far back as when Scott Hope was alive. Were it any day that Andy wasn't on a date, their chance reunion would have been a pleasant one - but Andy _was_ on a date, and the last thing she needed was her work life finding out about it.

Of course, Ishani was unaware of this. She pursed her lips and chided, "Long enough you've forgotten not to call me ma'am."

"It's either that or Your Honor," Andy told her with a small smile.

The older woman scoffed, but let the comment slide. "Harvey tells me you're back permanently."

"That's the word."

"Good. I've never agreed with that sort of operation. You're better put to use in other ways," She explained, briefly giving a glimpse into her well-known disdain for undercover work. Rather than delve into a lecture neither of them had the energy for, she waved a hand forward and said, "You and your mother should come to dinner some time. We all need to catch up."

Andy nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "I'd like that. I think I've missed your food more than I have anything else."

"Then it's a plan. For the new year, when things settle."

As time went on, the detective's nerves grew stronger in fear of her old lieutenant showing up to investigate his wife's absence. She started to look around, and asked, "Is the lieutenant with you?"

Ishani scoffed and shook her head. "I haven't been able to get that man to do anything fun in twenty years."

Grinning to mask her own relief, Andy joked, "Keep at it. You'll wear him down."

Richards may not have been there to walk into an awkward conversation, but there _was_ someone waiting outside, and he had decided to come check on Andy. He'd stopped immediately upon noticing the two women talking, but it was too late - they already noticed his presence in the entry way.

It was the one thing Andy wanted to avoid. She went tense, but quickly took control of the situation, introducing, "Uh, Mrs. Richards, this is Connor."

Connor was momentarily frozen under the spotlight before he composed himself. He recognized the woman's face, and recalled her name from the files he once had access to while working at the DPD. He gave a smooth greeting, hoping to keep their exchange short and painless. "It's nice to meet you. I've seen a photo of you on the lieutenant's desk."

Ishani allowed herself a second to examine him, but if she thought anything of finding him with Andy, she kept it to herself. "Call me Ishani. I've heard a little about you, Connor. My husband owes you quite a bit," She said, shaking his hand. Shifting her stare between the two, she made a swift exit. "I should go find my girls before they get into trouble. It was nice seeing you- and meeting you."

They watched her leave, Connor waiting until they were alone to face Andy, whose anxiety he could still feel radiating. It may not have been a co-worker to find them, but it was as close as they could have gotten to that. He was already expecting this to mark the end of their otherwise good date, and her silence was taken as an indicator he was right. "I should have planned something further from home," He tried to apologize.

"Stop," She interjected. Reaching out to him, she managed a weak voice, "It's okay."

It wasn't incriminating just to be seen together; after all, it was no secret they had a unique friendship outside of work and Jericho. However, their intentions had changed. Teasing between friends on a casual outing was different than brazenly flirting by the scarf stand. This wasn't even because Connor was an android, not entirely - a lot of it had to do with Andy's own deep-seated insecurities and the habit she'd built up over the years of hiding parts of her life. Being exposed in a personal and uncontrolled way made her uncomfortable. This was her fault, no one else's.

The look on his face told her he was reading the situation differently, though, and laying the blame squarely on his own shoulders. From not telling Hank about them, to keeping his LED hidden, to planning their date in a city where he thought they wouldn't be recognized, it wasn't lost on her how willing he was to accommodate what he no doubt believed to be her wish to hide him.

That sting of guilt was sharp. _So much for getting it right._

* * *

Dema Nazarian's office was shrinking, Hank decided.

He'd been sitting in the dimly lit room for what felt like an hour now, stone-faced and unwilling to initiate a discussion. After his eyes adjusted to a single lamp shining from the desk, the paintings decorating the walls started blending into shadows, and he was sure the corners were closing in on him. It was either that or he'd developed a weird new symptom to withdrawals.

It had to be the room.

The psychologist sitting across from him was looking through his file, the contents of which he was sure were mostly bullshit. At some point, her eyes darted up at him, making him worry he'd said that aloud. Instead, she said, "You've been at the department a long time."

"Yeah."

"With a rather successful run, I'd say."

"Depends on what part you're lookin' at."

She smiled. "All of it." With a small shrug, she added, "Even after the task force, you've done quite well on Homicide."

He felt his frown deepening, and he snapped without much thought, "Are you writing me a résumé or looking at my psych profile?"

She looked up at him fully, laying her hands over the armrests of her chair. "I'm giving you openings to start talking to me," She explained with an inviting wave of her hand that Hank did not find tempting.

When it became clear he wouldn't be making an effort, she picked a place to start for him. Returning to the file, she flipped to the next page and read off, "You've had three evaluations before this one: one upon founding the red ice task force, one after a personal tragedy, and one after a suspension last year." After a pause to let the information linger in the air, she asked, "What happened?"

Hank made a point of not moving too much while under a therapist's microscope, but his hands came together in a tight and nervous grasp. While he knew exactly what incident she was talking about - he'd almost lost his badge permanently that day - he couldn't begin to explain _why._ "It was just a disagreement with my captain," Was his flimsy excuse.

She didn't buy it, and the raised brow said as much. "You broke your hand."

"I-" He let out a frustrated sigh, arguing, "I punched a wall. We all let off a little steam."

"Not everyone's steam breaks bone," She remarked. Taking on a more neutral tone, she asked, "What was the argument about?"

"What?" He almost flinched at the question, though he should have expected it. "I don't remember," He muttered, shaking his head.

Her head tilted in skepticism masked as confusion, and she pushed him on his answer. "You were mad enough to hurt yourself, and you don't remember why?"

"It wasn't a big deal! And it's over now," He exclaimed. He could recognize the uphill battle he was facing, and it was making him feel like a cornered animal.

"Were you drunk?"

There it was. She had finally cut to the heart of her casual interrogation, and why Hank believed Fowler sent him there in the first place. He knew this would be coming eventually; he'd gone down this path with the department enough times by now. The more logical side of his brain was telling him they were being lenient with him, as any other police captain would have let him go a long time ago. It was telling him to follow along and fix this. The other, louder, slightly intoxicated side of his brain didn't care and only wanted to flee.

That part of him had been the easiest to listen to for some time now. He bristled at his therapist, snapping, "A bomb went off at CyberLife two days ago and you're talking to me about my drinkin'?"

* * *

Upon finding the smell of caramel Andy had been hunting since they left the rink - a food truck selling flavored hot chocolates - she and Connor removed themselves somewhat from the festivities. They wandered across the street to a closed bistro, and sat side by side at the outdoor seating that remained accessible. They watched the park, letting themselves relax into a comfortable silence after their stressful encounter by the bathroom.

Relaxation would only be so helpful, and Andy knew as much. "About earlier...," She started, keeping her eyes toward her lap. "With Mrs. Richards..."

"It's okay," He dismissed. He wanted to reassure her, but didn't know what else could be said.

"It's not because of you," She stated.

He appreciated what he thought she was trying to do, and he even believed that his being an android wasn't the only factor, but he _was_ an android, and it _did_ play a part. He didn't hold that against her. Between the department, Jericho, and her undercover work, involvement with an android was a complicated topic to share with the world. He knew this would be one of their obstacles, and he was prepared for it. His worry was about whether or not she was. With a meek smile, he said, "Well, being me doesn't help."

She wasn't going to deny that, but she also wasn't inclined to run away from it. Shifting in her seat, she admitted, "Yeah, that's going to be a conversation I'd rather have a little later than the first date, but that's not-" She stopped, because rambling wouldn't help her here.

With a small sigh, she reorganized her thoughts and started over. "Keeping my relationships private has always been my last line of defense," She explained. Gesturing to him, she added, "I don't like work and romance mixing, and we're already kind of doing that without needing anyone else to do it for us."

Whatever she felt she needed to defend herself from could have been a number of things: her own issues with balancing work and personal life, the potential danger of people like Sharon Weaver knowing too much about her, possible workplace gossip, or even Gavin Reed's targeted harassment. Knowing Andy, all of these concerns were possible.

Connor wanted to lighten her load, not burden it. He leaned forward and met her insecurity with a steady gaze. "I have no intention or desire to push you into telling anyone anything," He promised.

Eventually it worked, and he could see her shoulders relax as she realized he wasn't upset with her. "I'm sorry I made you feel like any of that was your fault," She told him, sincerely.

He smiled to reassure her, but as a nervous afterthought, he added, "I will say, though... Hank isn't just your work life."

She tried to huff in amusement, but it rang hollow. "I know; that makes it worse."

_Indeed_, he thought to himself. "Is everything okay with DDA Delgado?" He asked, hoping to ease each other into better conversation.

Unfortunately, it was as treacherous as the last topic. The light-hearted expression she'd started to manage fell away, and she replied, "Jason Hart's giving up his legal battle."

He went through a thought process similar to hers and Delgado's, trying to understand the motives behind the decision. Ultimately, it would lead nowhere; Nick Weaver was dead and Sharon was long gone, and all of Jason's other allies had less power than he did. To make matters more dire for him, celebrity attorney Malcolm Otto was working against in him in favor of a lesser sentencing for his own crimes. Jason Hart was alone.

"He may have realized he doesn't stand a chance anymore," Connor suggested.

Andy knew it was possible, but it didn't sit well with her. "When is it ever that simple?" She muttered. With a short sigh, she shook her head and complained, "We're supposed to be... _not_ working. Let's... talk about this later."

She'd had to almost spit the words to get them out, and Connor shot her a faint grin. "That hurt you to say, didn't it?"

"Can you taste?" She deflected, voice raising a little as she leaned forward on the table and wrapped her hands around her hot chocolate. Looking at him over her shoulder, she added, "I mean, I know you can analyze the makeup of something, but..."

"Is there more?" He helped her along. When she nodded at him, he explained, "Taste and flavor are different things. I'm capable of detecting the six basic tastes - I know whether something is sweet or not. What I don't have is the sensory experience of flavor."

She listened to him quietly, humming once he was finished. "Makes sense."

He watched her take another sip, fully aware she was trying to keep herself distracted. He also knew it wasn't something that could be switched off so easily. "If you want to discuss Hart, I won't mind."

She was quick to protest the offer. "Don't tell me that, because then I'll do it, and I don't want to. I'm trying to set boundaries." He had to admit he was taken aback by that. He knew she had concerns about her identity being consumed by the DPD, but the firm declaration hinted at how much thought she was putting into it. It was more than he expected, and his expression pulled a pout from her. "You don't have to look so surprised."

"I think I do."

Heaving a sigh, she looked away and picked at the edge of her cup. "I started going to therapy after I got reassigned."

"Voluntarily?"

"Yes, voluntarily," She rolled her eyes, "I just... It was suggested to me, and I thought I should listen." She lowered her head to take another sip, muttering into her cup, "For once."

He knew immediately how heavy that was - not just the confession, which was enough to floor him on its own, but the actual decision to see someone. Andy had a certain kind of emotional intelligence that drew him in, being open to change and willing to learn. That didn't mean she didn't have her walls, or that she wasn't stubborn about them, as evidenced by their earlier conversation. Like most people, she was reluctant to go outside her comfort zone. What helped was that hers was already larger than theirs.

It also mattered that she'd had prior experience with psychology, and from what he'd seen so far, it wasn't pleasant. "Does Natalie know?" He asked.

Her eyes widened. "Absolutely not-" Pointing at him, she exclaimed, "And do _not_ bring it up with her, or anyone for that matter. I'm sharing this in confidence."

"You can trust me," He insisted.

She went quiet, and the mild panic softened into a smile that lingered on her features. "I know." Relaxing in her chair, she added, "She made me talk to someone once, after my dad. But I was... stubborn."

"Not much has changed, then," He teased.

He received an amused glare in response, but she went on to admit, "I should have just sucked it up. Things probably wouldn't have been so hard."

That wasn't true, and he didn't have to be privy to all the details to know it. Putting weight on the armrest of his chair so that he could be a little closer to her, he said quietly, "From what I've heard, I don't think anything would have made it _easy._"

He was right, and there was some solace in that. "You know, Sundays used to be our days," She started, "He had a bike - big surprise. But we'd pick some activity and go looking for it." With a small, excited smile forming, she described one of her fondest memories. "Rock climbing was our favorite. He started saving up for us to take this trip after I graduated college. Said we'd finally climb some real cliffs."

When Andy brought up her father, something changed. Her eyes glazed over as her mind took her elsewhere, and her voice softened to the point he worried it would break. It would have been a sight wrought with grief, if not for the bittersweet smile. This was why she didn't talk much about him.

"Maybe we could try a similar trip the next time you're off work." He glanced away, adding, "The riding, not the beaches."

"Yeah, I got that," She laughed and smirked, resting her cheek on her palm. "Already trying to score a second date, huh?"

He tilted his head, murmuring, "If you don't want to..."

With a small chuckle, she pushed her shoulder into his. "Slow your roll, we still have to finish this one."

She took another sip of her hot chocolate as they turned their attentions back to the festival. A crowd was beginning to form near the new band that had set up, some dancing while others simply listened to the music. Their unfiltered joy reminded Connor of a decision he'd made.

"I'm thinking of finding a hobby."

Andy glanced to him, raising a brow. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "If I'm going to be alive, I want to explore what that means." It was time for a confession of his own as he said, "Everyone at Jericho is discovering other parts of themselves, and I feel like I'm just waiting for something to happen."

To some extent, she understood how he felt. A hobby was more than superficial leisure - it enriched your identity, and helped you fill other corners of your life. It gave you something to focus on when the world felt like it was closing in, and in Connor's case, that was truer now more than ever. Even with the new deadline she was keenly aware they were avoiding discussing, he couldn't wait for Jericho to achieve their goals before he took total control of his life.

"What do you have lined up so far?" She questioned.

He shrugged, "Mostly basics. Cooking, painting, things Natalie suggested."

"You should come to the gym with me sometime," She invited, "They've got a couple different things going on. Something might click."

He knew he would be taking her up on that offer soon, but he couldn't resist the grin that crept up on him. "Now who's trying to score another date?" She could only laugh, nudging him in the arm.

* * *

"So this explosion at CyberLife..."

Nazarian trailed off, searching Hank's face for any tells that he was uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable. So far during his appointment, he had appeared indifferent and sometimes irritated. Before he walked in, she suspected anything other than a hard-line approach wouldn't work, and as the time ticked on, she was discovering she was right.

When he remained stone-faced against her line of questioning, she pushed, "How are you handling that?"

"You tell me. That's why I'm here, isn't it?" He retorted, tilting his head to the side.

Gesturing to herself, she explained, "My role is to decide whether or not you're fit to return to work. How you're _doing_ is up to you."

He clapped his hands on his knees and declared, "Well I'm fine. Never been better. You can check me off your to-do list and let me go right now." He didn't expect it to work, but when she pursed her lips and shot him a pointed stare, he sighed. "What? What will it take?" He almost yelled the words in frustration, sinking back into the couch.

"All right, I'll cut through the bullshit, then," She said. Her voice was calm, but she punctuated her sentence by sharply snapping his file closed to give her an added edge. Placing it on the coffee table in front of her, she straightened her blouse as she sat up and offered him an early way out of her office. "I have two questions, and I want an answer for either one of them. I'll even let you pick."

It was obvious she had something planned, but he didn't care anymore. "Great. First question," He spat.

Her next words were slow and meticulous. "What was the nature of the argument with your captain that broke your hand?"

He wouldn't be answering that today, or any day for that matter. It wasn't because it was a sensitive subject. It was because he was too drunk to remember it. He couldn't remember what he and Fowler fought about the very next day, when he woke up hungover with a bandaged hand and his badge and gun missing from his end table. It was why Nazarian was so focused on that event, and creating a fake reason was impossible when she had his file, where Fowler no doubt described the argument in great and sober detail. All Hank could do was lie and evade.

Nazarian knew this. She had to know this, and that meant her next question - the one he would be able to answer - would be the one he didn't want to answer. "And the other one?" He asked her, building up a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

She smiled at him, knowingly and gently. "How much have you had to drink today?"

* * *

"This was ridiculous."

Andy and Connor had continued their date with their good spirits renewed. They did one last lap around the festival, then went to find a late supper which resulted in hunting down a nearby food truck before calling an end to the night. When they returned to her bike in the parking garage, he asked to drive again. She let him do so, unaware that he'd planned to take her straight to her apartment.

They walked down the hallway leading to her place, careful not to disturb her likely sleeping neighbors with too much noise. They stopped in front of her door and she pulled her keys from her pocket while he looked on. "I can get a cab to Hank's," He told her, disregarding her grumblings.

She looked over her shoulder at him as she slipped her key into the door knob. "You could have gotten a free ride there if you weren't being ridiculous," She mused with a smirk.

He shook his head, unwilling to be moved from this position. "It's too late to be riding more than you have to."

Once the door was unlocked, she turned fully to face him. Leaning against the wood, she pursed her lips. Normally that sort of comment would have kicked off a fight about treating her as though she were fragile, but he looked so earnest. "I'll let you get away with that this time," She warned with a smile that betrayed her.

He quirked a brow. "Get away with what, being concerned?"

"Overbearingly so," She answered, nodding her head. "I can take care of myself, thank you."

"You can let me do a little of the work."

The response disarmed her, to say the least. What she expected was eye rolling, or dismissal of her stubborn pride - not such a gentle request. For a brief moment, it rendered her speechless, but Andy was never someone who would be speechless for long. She smiled, moving away from the door to take a small step toward him. "Well I suppose there's one good thing about stopping off here instead."

As soon as he realized what she was getting at, he leaned down to meet lips coated in lip balm and hot chocolate.

She _really_ liked kissing him. For starters, he was always warmer and softer than he looked. Until now, she had done most of the leading, and as he was growing accustomed to this, that was shifting to a more equal back and forth. She loved that. He didn't overwhelm her with too much want, but neither did he sit idle by. He asked for more in patient increments, while at the same time gauging her actions and responding in kind. When she wrapped her fingers around the collar of his jacket, he was happy to follow her until her back hit the door; when she tilted her head, she felt fingers slide through her hair.

He was in step with her every move, able to read her easier than anyone ever had. She could get nothing past him.

He pulled away but remained close enough to still feel her breath. He watched her eyes open, and her hand leave his jacket. She smiled at him, and he blurted out, "I'm glad you agreed to give this a chance."

Placing her hand at the side of his neck where her thumb brushed over his jawline. "Me too."

Her touch was distracting, and he suspected he could have stood there all night under it. "I should let you get some sleep," He murmured.

She hummed an amused affirmative, in part because he had yet to actually move. She gave him a chaste second kiss, shifting her hand to tap her knuckle under his chin. He heard her open her door with her free hand, and a second later, she parted from him and whispered, "Let me know when you get home."

Despite the sincerity of the request, she wore a small grin that he suspected was teasing him for needing a cab in the first place. She took a step backward to enter her apartment, and he stood rooted in place until he heard the door lock, and her footsteps fade into the depths of the room.


End file.
